


i keep my feet on the ground

by saddestboner



Series: Author's Favorites [18]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Infidelity, M/M, Melodrama, Non-Famous Family Members As Characters, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-09 00:33:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11657907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saddestboner/pseuds/saddestboner
Summary: “Feelings’re feelings, man. They don’t always gotta make sense[.]”





	i keep my feet on the ground

**Author's Note:**

> So, I finished a 53K happily-ever-after love story (that I haven’t posted yet) and then I was like "I haven't written an actual fic about infidelity for this pairing," so I wrote this one in response in about 4 days. :|
> 
> [This](http://nullrefer.com/?https://dekeysersoze.files.wordpress.com/2017/07/smirk.gif) is José. This is [James](http://nullrefer.com/?https://dekeysersoze.files.wordpress.com/2017/07/jm.gif). This is [José and James](http://nullrefer.com/?https://dekeysersoze.files.wordpress.com/2017/08/tumblr_otpojbqqoc1qe9196o1_540.gif).
> 
> Many thanks to [**crimsonkitty**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonkitty/profile) , [**blastellanos**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/blastellanos/profile) , [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/redporchrebel/profile)[**redporchrebel**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/redporchrebel/) , and [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/aitoheiwa/profile)[**aitoheiwa**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/aitoheiwa/) for looking over this at various points during the writing process and in our weekly writer’s chats. Thanks for helping make this a better story!
> 
>  **Additional warnings:** José dates/sleeps with people who aren’t good for him and engages in enabling behavior. Neither of them really make great decisions here until the end. James is a little self-absorbed and manipulative. Players’ family members appear briefly as characters in this story. That being said, José's family got handwaved. There are also a few scenes that deal with religion/church. If any of this seems like it might not interest you or could be upsetting, you should click the back button. If there’s anything you think I forgot to tag, let me know. 
> 
> Title from U.N.I.,” by Ed Sheeran.
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thesaddestboner) and [tumblr](http://saddestboner.tumblr.com).

José opens his hotel room door and peers out, looking first to the left and then the right. Once he’s reasonably sure no one is going to spot him, he slips out of the room and shuts the door quietly behind him. He creeps down the hall to the room at the end of the corridor and pauses—looking around yet again, just to be sure none of his teammates have popped out of their rooms—before knocking lightly.

He can hear a little bit of rustling fabric on the other side of the door. José stands back and waits. The longer he has to wait, the more nervous he gets, until his hands are slippery with sweat and his chest is tight.

The door swings open.

James stares back at him, expressionless, before reaching out and pulling him into the room. He shuts the door behind José with a gentle click.

“Took you long enough,” James grumbles, leaving José by the door to attack the minibar. He grabs a bottle of juice and tosses it at José.

José catches it against his chest and twists off the plastic cap. “Sorry, I’ll be on time next time,” he snaps, rolling his eyes as he takes a sip. 

James closes the minibar and goes over to clear some clothes off his bed. José watches his back while he works.

“This isn’t gonna happen again for a while,” James says, pausing to turn and look at José. “Jess is gonna start coming on road trips again.”

José frowns. “Why?”

James scowls. “Because she’s my wife. And she feels like it,” he says, his voice hard. 

“I thought she don’t like it,” José says, trying to shove away his rising irritation. “You say she don’t like the travel.”

James turns to look at José. “She doesn’t. But she misses me.” He pauses. “And I miss her. So, you know the deal.”

José finishes off the juice and walks over to the bed to toss the bottle away. “Kinda unfair to drop this on me,” he says, glaring at James and crossing his arms over his chest.

James straightens up and puts his hands on his hips. “You don’t get to do this,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “I’m tellin’ you what the deal is. You can either accept it or get the hell out. Your choice.”

“I don’t accept. And I’m staying where I am.” José drops his voice to a harsh whisper. “You could give me some warning, no? Instead, you drop this on me.”

James grabs him by the shoulders and pushes him down on the mattress. He leans over him. “That ain’t your choice to make,” he says, tightening his hands on José’s arms.

José glares at him. “Maybe she let you make her choices for her, but I’m not—”

James shoves José away from him and backs away, corners of his mouth tightening. “Shut the fuck up about Jess.”

“She’s a part of this as much as you and me,” José taunts from his spot on the bed. “Always there’s been three people in this. From the very start, it’s you and me and her.”

James stalks back over to the bed and grabs José by the arm, tugging him off the bed. “You know what, get the hell out.”

“No.” José digs his heels in. “Don’t feel like leaving.”

“I changed my mind, I’m not gonna fuck you tonight. We’re finished here,” James all but growls, his voice low and angry. 

José just laughs. “You say you want to. You never change.”

James grips José tightly by the arm, his breath coming in ragged sucks of air. “Don’t start with me.”

“Too late,” José says, twisting his arm out of James’s grip. “It already started.”

James stares at him, his blue eyes snapping off electricity. “This’s over after tonight.”

José reaches up and pushes him, a palm against his chest, until he hits the wall with a solid thump. James grabs at his arm. 

“What’s wrong with one more night, huh?” José asks, flicking open the top button on James’s shirt. 

James reaches for José’s arm and digs his fingers in. “It’s over after this. I’m tellin’ you.”

“I hear you. Loud and clear,” José says with a laugh. He moves on to the next button, still smiling.

James’s gaze grows a little less intense, a little less stormy. He reaches up, slips a hand over José’s cheek and pulls him in for a rough biting kiss, teeth digging hard into his bottom lip. James grips him by the shoulders and pushes him until José stumbles back onto the mattress and James crawls over him.

It’s not usually this easy to get him to go along. Most of the time, José has to get on his knees for him. He doesn’t mind that, but this is good too.

As James pulls away to finish unbuttoning his shirt and slip it off, José lies back and watches. He hasn’t taken off his wedding ring tonight, like he does when they get together on the road. Maybe he’s actually serious about being good for Jess.

James settles back over him and shoves a thigh between José’s legs. He tugs José’s shirt over his head and reaches down to undo his fly.

“Let me.” José pushes James’s hands away and tugs the zipper down, lifting his hips to slide his pants off.

James shoves him back down and reaches into his own pocket, pulling out a foil-wrapped condom. José grabs it away from him. 

“Give that back.” James reaches for it, but José hides it behind his back.

“Gonna have to take it from me,” José teases.

James narrows his eyes. “I could go find somebody else. I don’t have to put up with this.”

“You could but you won’t.” José tosses the condom back at him and rolls away.

James just climbs out of bed, goes over to the carry-on bag sitting on a chair in the corner of the room and pulls out a little bottle of lube. 

“I should,” he tosses over his shoulder. “You ain’t worth the trouble.”

José laughs. “If I’m not, what’s that say about you?”

James comes back over to the bed and sits back down next to José. He looks at him, eyebrows knitting for a second as he actually puts some effort into answering José’s question. “I dunno,” he says, finally, rubbing the bottle in his palms. “Nothin’ good.”

José rests his chin on his arm. “No, probably not.”

James opens his belt buckle and yanks his zipper down. José watches from his vantage point on the bed, chin still resting on his arm. James tugs his cock out of his boxers and gives himself a perfunctory stroke or two. He flexes his forearm and José rolls his eyes. He’s just showing off. 

“You’re not that impressive,” José calls out, cupping a hand around his mouth.

James narrows his eyes and tightens his mouth. “Fuck off.”

José laughs and rolls onto his back. James keeps stroking his cock, slowly, eyes fixed on José. 

“I got something on my face?” José asks, touching his mouth exaggeratedly. 

James shuffles closer, hand fisted around his cock. He presses his other hand against José’s bare knee. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Only when I got your cock in my mouth.” José winks and blows James a kiss.

James shoves him back against the mattress and hovers over him, fingers digging into José’s shoulders. “That a challenge?”

“Not one you can win,” José says.

James feels around until he comes up with the condom and rips the foil open. José tucks an arm under his head and watches as he rolls it on. 

They should have stopped doing this weeks ago. Months. But they’re both so damn stubborn. It’s actually a good thing Jess has decided she’ll start coming on road trips again, José thinks, as James grabs the bottle of lube and squeezes some in his hand.

It’ll keep them from making the same mistakes.

James gets his fingers slippery and then crawls between José’s legs. A couple slick fingers prod at José’s ass, then sink in. James isn’t one for finesse, but it’s fine. José is used to him. Used to it. 

It doesn’t take long until José’s ready for it, squirming against James’s fingers. James grins at him—sharp and unkind—as he pulls his fingers away and wraps his hand back around his cock.

José leans back against the pillows and watches. Waits. 

James crawls back over José and studies him for a moment. José holds his breath and waits, until James finally looks away, fingers sliding over his hips. 

James sinks into him, fingers digging into José’s hips hard enough to hurt. José grips him by the arms and closes his eyes just for a little bit. 

“So,” José sighs, opening his eyes and looking up at the ugly, white whipped cream ceiling, “this’s it.”

“Shut up.” James bites him on the neck, under his jawline.

“Make it memorable.” José laughs, breathlessly.

James reaches up and claps a hand over his mouth, and José just bites at his fingers until he pulls them away. He reaches down and slips a damp hand over José’s thigh, rubs his thumb in the crease of José’s hip almost affectionately. But it’s James, so that rules out anything remotely close to affection or fondness or _like_.

“You know me,” James grunts, squinting down at him. “ ‘Memorable’ is my middle name.”

José shoves at his chest. “Actually, I think I’m happy you’re not gonna do this no more.”

James frowns. “You already got somebody else lined up?” he asks, and it almost sounds like he’s jealous. 

“Maybe. None of your business.”

James starts fucking him a little harder after that. José basks in his triumph. 

He’d be disappointed James is so easy to play with if he didn’t enjoy it so much.

José sighs. He thinks he might actually miss this. 

Next time, he’ll find someone he actually _likes_. Someone, preferably, without a wife. 

James drags José out of his thoughts with his teeth tugging on his throat. A startled little gasp falls past José’s lips without his consent. He can feel James smirk against the aching skin of his throat after he lets go. James sucks on the bite mark, hard enough that there’ll probably be a noticeable mark there in the morning.

José wraps an arm around his sweaty, heaving shoulders, and wrinkles his nose. “You’re such an asshole.”

“Hm?” James snaps his hips and José hisses a curse into his damp hair. 

“Everybody’s gonna be able to see,” he mutters.

“Mm, yep. Everybody’s gonna know you belong to me.” James grazes his teeth against José’s shoulder.

“Fuck off,” José snaps, whacking him on the shoulder. “Is not cute, this possession thing you got.”

“You’re still here, aren’t you?” James pushes himself up on his elbows to give José a smug grin.

“I hate you.” José lifts a hand to slap at him again, but James pushes his arm down and pins it over his head.

“No you don’t.” James digs his fingers into José’s arm. “You’re gonna miss me.”

“I’m already looking forward to being away from you,” José retorts, in his snottiest tone.

James pins his other arm above his head too. He stares down at him, the blue of his eyes muted slightly in the dim light of the hotel room. 

“You don’t mean that.” James lets go of José’s wrists to hook one of his legs over his shoulder.

José doesn’t bother dignifying that with a reply.

José wraps a hand around his cock and starts stroking himself. He comes all over his chest a few minutes later, fingers of his other hand spasming in the bed sheets. 

James mutters something against his calf before pulling out and tugging the condom off. “C’mere. Gimme your mouth.”

José flips him off but drags himself over. James reaches down and pushes José’s hair off his forehead. He traces his thumb over his eyebrow, like that’s where he wants his jizz to go. José’s kind of sick of him already.

José turns his face up toward James, flutters his eyelashes, and gives him a sweet smile. James rolls his eyes and shoves him face first into the mattress. José leans in and rubs his cheek and lips against the wet head of James’s cock, flicks out his tongue and teases him. James closes his eyes with a soft sigh and starts working himself over.

It doesn’t take James very long either. His come ends up on José’s face and across his cheek and, basically, everywhere except in his mouth. José would tease James for his aim if he didn’t know James always got a little touchy and sensitive after shooting his load.

José sits back and wipes his his arm across his face. “Ugh.”

“Don’t _ugh_ me, you love it,” James says, grabbing him by the shoulders and shoving him down.

“Probably the thing I’ll miss the least about you,” José says, reaching up to scrub at his hair with his fingers. He scowls. “Your obsession over jerking off on my face.”

“That’s what you’ll miss the least?” James huffs petulantly. 

“I have a list,” José says, blinking his eyes open and focusing them on James. 

“Of all the things you won’t miss,” James says.

“Something like that.” José reaches up to shove James off of him, but his hands just land on his shoulders and stay there instead.

James rolls off of him and onto his back. He stares up at the ceiling. “You know,” he says, “we lasted way longer than we had any right to. When you think about it.”

“I guess,” José says, sitting up and running his fingers through his hair.

James’s hand lands on his back and rubs in a circle before slipping away. José glances back at him.

“You don’t have to leave right away, if you don’t want,” James says, shrugging at him. “Or you can. Whatever.”

José nods and slips out of the bed, planting his feet in the carpet and arching his back until it cracks. “I probably should go.”

“Probably,” James agrees, making a face as he plucks up the condom and gets up to dispose of it.

José grabs his boxers off the floor and pulls them on, then goes looking for his pants and shirt. He hears James flush the condom and looks up at the ceiling in exasperation. At least it’s James’s room and not his. That’s his problem now.

José tugs his shirt on over his head and smoothes it over his chest. James comes out of the bathroom and leans back against the wall, eyes trained on José. José ignores him—the eyes burning into the back of his neck—and steps into his pants, hitching them up and zipping them.

José turns back toward him, digging his fingers into his thighs. “You… You take care of yourself,” he says, feeling more awkward fully clothed in front of James than he did naked and pinned under his body.

James’s eyes shutter. He pushes away from the wall and stands in front of José, wrapping his hands around his arms. “That ain’t gonna be a problem,” he says. 

José offers him a slight smile and a nod. “Good.” He turns to leave, but James catches him by the wrist and pulls him back. José looks over his shoulder at him, eyebrows knitting.

“C’mere. You’ve, uh… You got something on your face.” James pulls him back and rubs his thumb at José’s cheek. 

José snorts. “Thanks, Ma.”

James makes a face. “Real glad we decided to stop this now.”

José laughs a little and pulls away, opening the door and standing in the doorway. “ ’Bye, James.”

James nods at him, allowing the slightest hint of a smile to flicker on his face for a moment. “Yeah. See you around.”

José steps out and shuts the door behind him.

***

Contrary to popular belief, José does not have a line of potential lovers lined up and waiting to get into his bed. He’s got a booty call lined up at their next stop, but whatever. James is full of shit.

It’s not that awkward, which is nice. James still snaps irritably at him in the dugout and José still cheerfully gives him shit in the clubhouse, and it’s nice to know some things won’t have to change. 

The only thing that changes is Jess—James’s sweet, kindhearted wife—who is suddenly everywhere José turns.

José doesn’t know much about her, beyond what info James felt like parceling out to him. They met in college and it was love at first sight, he knows that much. And she’s devoutly Christian, maybe even more than James. Jess participates in every team Bible study and chapel meeting and ballpark Faith Day that she can.

José’s said maybe two full sentences to her in the three or so years he and James have been teammates. There’s been no need to talk to her. 

Jess is in the visitor’s clubhouse when José walks in a few days later, taping something to the dry erase board in the center of the room.

José meanders over to her, putting his hands on his hips. “What’s that?” he asks.

Jess turns, dark blond hair flying over her shoulder, and offers him a sweet smile. “Oh, hi. I didn’t think anybody else was in here. I’m just puttin’ up some flyers for the Tiger Cubs clothing drive,” she says, holding out the stack of paper to José. “We need some volunteers. Maybe you can take one home to your wife?”

“Oh, I don’t… I’m not married.” José shakes his head but takes a flyer anyway.

“That’s fine,” Jess says, laughing softly and tucking the rest of the flyers under her arm. “Girlfriend, if you have one. Or you can just bring yourself.”

José glances at the paper but the tiny font just blurs into a gray blob. “Right,” he says, looking up at her.

Jess is still smiling benevolently on him. “Have you seen James?”

José stares at her. “What?”

“I came down to grab James ’cause we’re doing the readings for today’s chapel service, but I haven’t been able to find him at all,” she says.

“Oh,” José says. “No, I just got here.”

“Would you like to join us for today’s service? I don’t think I’ve seen you there before,” Jess says, reaching out and patting José on the arm.

“I don’t think that—”

“Jessica, there you are!” James bursts into the clubhouse and rushes to her side, leaning in and pressing his lips against her temple. “I’ve been lookin’ all over for you. We’re gonna be late for mass.”

“I’m busy recruitin’ your teammate,” Jess says, laughing and slipping her hand over James’s cheek.

José looks from James to Jess and back again, wondering if he should just leave while they’re busy kissing on each other.

“Uh… I’ll put the Tiger Cub thing in my calendar,” José says, folding the piece of paper and pocketing it. 

Jess pushes James away and offers José another sweet smile. “I hope you do join us today. We’re always lookin’ out for new faces.”

“He doesn’t wanna,” James says, slipping an arm around her shoulders from behind. He presses his face in her hair. “Let’s go, we’re already late.”

“Actually,” José says, glancing at James. “I think I’ll join you.”

James turns his ice-cold eyes onto José. “That’ll be great,” he says. He glances down at the top of Jess’s hair. “Hon, why don’t you go on up. I gotta chat with José for a sec.”

“Okay, babe. See you in a few.” Jess feathers a kiss over James’s lips before pulling away and slipping through the heavy clubhouse doors.

Once she’s gone, James turns on José, eyes blazing.

“What on God’s green earth do you think you’re doin’?” he sneers, stalking over to José.

José shoves his hands in his pockets. “She invited me. So I’ll go.”

“You are _not_ goin’ to ruin this for me,” James hisses.

“What’m I gonna ruin? I’m gonna be a good _Católico_ boy,” José says, steepling his hands under his chin and giving James a wicked wink.

James grabs him by the arm and squeezes. “José, don’t you dare—”

“You don’t think I can behave?” José puckers his lips like he’s going to kiss James, but James shoves him away.

“I think you’re provin’ me right,” James snaps.

“I can behave,” José teases.

James glares at him, mouth tightening. “If you fuck this up for me, I swear on all that’s holy, they’ll never find your body.”

“I’ll just come back and haunt you until you go _loco_ ,” José says, twirling his finger near James’s temple.

James shoves his arm down, keeping his hand wrapped around his wrist. “I’m serious.”

Something thrills down José's spine at being this close to James in the clubhouse—before he remembers they’d agreed the last time was the _last_ time and it wasn’t going to happen anymore. José jerks on his wrist, but James doesn’t let go of him.

“Let go,” José says.

“I’ll let you go when I’m good and ready,” James says.

“You’re just doing this to be annoying.” José tugs on his wrist some more but James just tightens his grip. “It’s working.”

James tightens his fingers around José’s wrist and lifts his eyes to meet his. José wants so badly to push him against the wall and get down on his knees for him. Thankfully, common sense prevails.

“Good,” James says, tightly, jerking on José’s wrist again, pulling him closer. Slipping a hand to the small of his back.

“Wait.” José presses a hand against his chest.

James pauses, blinks at him. The grip around José’s wrist loosens just a bit. “What?”

“You’re late for the team chapel service,” José says, sighing softly. 

James slips his fingers away from José’s wrist and he looks down at it, at the red marks on his skin. 

“Right,” James says, clearing his throat.

José steps back and rubs at his wrist. James glances down and reaches out, hesitantly, touching the reddened skin lightly with his fingertips. 

“We should go,” José says, pulling his arm away and yanking his sleeve down. “They’re probably waiting on you.”

“Yeah,” James says, moving away. 

José turns and leaves. James follows after him.

***

When José pops his head into the conference room the team has been using for its chapel, he’s surprised to find it’s mostly empty. The only people there are Jess, Mikie Mahtook, Michael Fulmer, Matthew Boyd, Daniel Norris, and a dark-haired woman he doesn’t recognize.

Jess looks up when José and James step in and José shuts the door gently behind them.

“Sorry, I’m late, hon,” James says, walking over to Jess and slipping his arms around her. He presses soft kisses across her forehead and cheeks, and she squirms out of his arms, giggling. 

“It’s fine,” she says, patting him on the chest. “We were waitin’ on you.”

The brunette lifts her head when José settles in the empty seat next to her, offers him a slight smile. José nods to her and smiles back, holding his hand out to her.

“I’m José. You are…?”

“Crystal,” she drawls, a heavy Southern accent stretching out her syllables and her consonants. Crystal slips her hand into José’s and gives him a surprisingly sturdy handshake.

“Crystal,” José says, nodding. “Nice to meet you.”

“Now, José,” Mikie cuts in, grinning as he drapes an arm over José’s shoulder. “That’s my girl you’re chattin’ up.”

José laughs and nudges Mikie off his shoulder. “I didn’t know. A pretty girl says hi to me, I think maybe it’s my lucky day.”

Crystal and Mikie share a laugh, and he curves a big hand over her bouncing knee. 

José looks away and catches James’s eye from the other side of the room. James has an arm around Jess, and they have matching hymnals resting in their laps.

“José,” Jess calls out to him, “would you like to do our first reading?”

“I—I think I’ll just observe today,” José says, offering her what he hopes is an apologetic enough smile.

“It’s all right here,” she says, picking a heavy red book up off the lectern and bringing it over. “Are you sure you don’t wanna?”

“Careful, babe, or you’re gonna scare him off,” James jokes, a little smile tugging up the corner of his mouth, not looking up from his hymnal.

José’s cheeks grow warm and he ducks his head.

Jess holds the book against her chest. “I can go over it with you, if you want.”

José sighs and gets up, joining her by the lectern. He touches the cover of the book. “Is all here?”

“See,” Jess says, opening it to the properly marked page and pointing out the heading. “Today we’re gonna be readin’ from Acts.” She points out the passage with her fingernail.

“Right, yes,” José says, glancing at James over her shoulder.

James looks back at his hymnal, but José doesn’t think he’s reading anymore.

Jess offers him an encouraging smile. “You don’t have to, but I thought since you’re new here we could throw you right into the fire,” she says.

“Okay,” José says.

He picks up a hymnal and sits behind Jess and James. 

Norris starts the service off, offering introductory prayers in that quietly intense voice of his. He always sounds like he’s on the verge of shouting or crying. José’s never sure if he should steer clear of him or give him a reassuring pat on the back.

Then, it’s his turn. José gets up and steps behind the lectern, staring down at the thick pages of Jess’s big red book. When he raises his head, he meets James’s eyes. 

José glances back down at the page and starts reading. His voice wavers only a couple times, and he stumbles over some of the words, but he gets through it and hurries back to his seat, face burning. 

Jess turns in her seat to smile at him. “That was great! I hope you come back next week and read for us again.”

“I dunno,” José says, glancing at the back of James’s head again. “Maybe.”

Jess reaches out and pats José’s hand before turning back around.

José rubs his hands over his face and sighs.

After the service is done, José slips out of the conference room and tries to make a clean getaway while everyone else is helping themselves to cookies and non-alcoholic wine. 

He gets halfway down the hall when someone catches him by the shoulder and spins him around, pushing him back against the wall.

James.

“You can’t come back next week,” he hisses under his breath, grip tightening on José’s shoulder. “I’ll tell her you’re busy. Just stay away.”

José reaches up to knock James’s hand away from his shoulder. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

James tightens his jaw. “How do you not get what a bad idea this is?”

José tips his chin up and crosses his arms over his chest. “Maybe I like doing the reading and I wanna come back. Maybe I’m gonna steal Mikie’s girl away when he’s not paying attention.”

“José,” James says, giving him a shove.

José pushes James’s hands away from his chest. “We’re not nothing. You can’t tell me what to do. I wanna come next week, I’ll come.”

James shoves at him again and José hits the wall with a solid thump. “For once in your life, could you just do what I ask and stay the hell away?”

José leans back against the wall. “I don’t owe you nothing.”

James steps back and tugs at his hair. “What is your deal? Why do you always have to make things so goddamned difficult?”

“I dunno. ’Cause you deserve it,” José says, shrugging. 

James glares at him. “If I come see you tonight will you stay away?”

“What?” José laughs sharply. “How does that make sense?”

“You’re clearly just doing this to get to me,” James says. “I’ll stop by your room and we’ll talk it out.”

José slaps his hands over his face. “ _¡Me tienes hasta el último pelo!_ I don’t get you.”

“I’m telling you, I’ll—”

“James, there you are! Ready to go?” Jess waves at him from down the hall, that red, leather-bound book clutched to her chest.

“Just a sec, babe,” James calls back to her. He glances at José, who’s still leaning back against the wall. “I’ll come by later. After the game.”

José flips a hand dismissively at him. “Okay. We can _talk_ ,” he sneers.

“Whatever, José.” James pushes away from him and retreats down the hall to his wife.

José watches them link their arms together and disappear through the doors.

***

José’s not really expecting James to show up, not with Jess on this road trip. He figures he’ll get a text, at the most, explaining why he can’t make it and that’ll be that. He’s not sure he really wants to see James anyway. If he comes by, they probably won’t end up doing much talking. They never have.

Still, though, it’s midnight and José’s cooped up in his hotel room, waiting. 

He puts on his TV and starts cycling through channels until he lands on an informercial for special thermal socks. He picks up his cell phone and is about to tap in the number when someone starts banging on his door.

José slips out of bed and shuffles over to the door. He opens it and nearly gets knocked over as James storms past him and makes a beeline for the minibar.

“I didn’t say you could have any,” José says, shutting the door.

“I need somethin’ to take the edge off, fuck off.” James pulls out a bottle of liquor and examines it before shoving it back into the minibar and grabbing something else.

“Bad day?” José asks. 

James had gone hitless tonight and made an error that let the winning run score. Maybe that's it.

“Shut up.” James settles on a bottle of Gatorade and rips off the plastic cap. “I didn’t come for your riveting conversation skills.”

“You came for a talk, you say.” José goes over and sinks onto the end of the bed. “So, talk.”

James lowers the Gatorade and twists the cap back on. His lips are glossy now. “Since when have we ever talked?” James turns his back on José and shrugs out of his sports coat, draping it over the back of a wooden chair. He reaches up and undoes the first few buttons of his shirt.

José looks away, sighing. “You don’t have nothing to say?”

James joins José on the end of the bed and crosses his arms over his chest. “What exactly do you want me to say?” he asks, frowning. He scoots a little closer and their knees bump.

“Dunno,” José says, shifting away from James. “Didn’t think you’d actually show up.”

James sighs and scratches at his damp brown hair. There’s still some water from his shower dripping down the side of his face. “I said I was gonna.”

José swallows back a sigh of his own. “I was hoping you weren’t coming.”

“Why?” James asks, touching José’s back.

“Because.” José squirms away from his hand. “Last time, you say you gonna stay away this time. It’s done.”

James puts his hand back between José’s shoulder blades. “I guess I—” He cuts himself short and pulls his hand away. “Shit, José, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Then why you ask to come by to talk?” José glares at him over his shoulder. 

“I just wanted you to…to _stop_ ,” James says, squaring his jaw. 

“I’m just poking at you, you know that,” José says, with a soft, disbelieving little laugh. “I’m not dumb enough to say stuff and get you in trouble.”

James reaches up and drags his fingers through the hair at the back of José’s neck. “I never said you were. I was—”

“Stop.” José shrugs his arm away. “If you don’t got nothing to say, you should go.”

James lets his hand fall away from José’s neck. His eyes grow cold and distant. “Oh, so that’s how you wanna play it?”

“You started it,” José fires back, getting off the bed and going to the minibar. He grabs a bottled water and uncaps it. 

James gets up and reaches him in a couple long strides, grabbing for José’s hand. “You don’t get to be pissed off at me,” he says, wrapping his fingers over José’s around the bottle. “This’s all your fault, anyway. If you didn’t insist on makin’ things so damned difficult, we wouldn’t be—”

“You think nothing touches you,” José says, with a startled laugh. “You think you’re blameless and I’m just… What? You’re saying I make you do things you don’t wanna do?”

“I love Jess,” he says, twisting José’s fingers away from the bottle and putting it on top of the minibar.

“Good for you,” José says, shoving past James for the door.

James turns, grabbing him by the shoulder and hauling him back. “I’ve got a life with Jess you don’t factor into at all,” he says, squeezing his fingers around José’s shoulder. 

“You want for me to care? To get upset and beg you to come back?” José pushes his hand away from his shoulder. 

“I don’t want anything from you,” James says. “I’m just sayin’… You’re not a part of that. You can’t be.”

“Okay, good we’ve talked about this then.” José rolls his eyes. “Tell me things I don’t already know.”

“Don’t come back next Sunday.”

“Not feeling like doing you any favors,” José sneers.

“I’m not askin’ you for a favor, I’m _tellin’_ you. Stay out of it, José,” James snaps.

“And I’m saying I’ll do what I want,” José says, advancing on James until they’re nearly nose-to-nose. “If I wanna join up with your stupid church meetings and bake cookies and knit sweaters for the homeless with Mikie and Daniel, I’m gonna do it. And if Jess wants me to read next week, I’m gonna do that too.”

James just stares at him, eyes hard and cold, sucking his lips in until his mouth disappears. 

José pats him on the chest. “So, you can forget all about—”

James grabs his face in his hands and pulls him into a kiss. His teeth are sharp on José’s lip and draw blood, and then his tongue is pushing into his mouth. José lifts his hands as if to push James away, but he falters long enough that James pins him back against the wall.

The wall gives José enough leverage to finally wedge his hands between their chests and shove James away.

“What are you doing?” he asks, giving him another shove just because.

James reaches out and skims a hand down José’s side. “What you wanted me to do.”

José laughs and shakes his head. His breath rattles around in his chest, sounds like a broken radiator. “I didn’t say—”

“You don’t have to,” James says, shoving a hand under his shirt.

“You said you were finished,” José says, pushing at his chest again.

James smirks—just the slightest hitch of his lips—and leans in and presses their mouths back together. 

José laces his fingers in James’s hair and kisses him back, even with the warning bells going off in the back of his mind.

James tugs his shirt out of his belt and moves a hand down to open the buckle. The brass buckle scratches against the worn leather and the familiar sound sends a shiver down between José’s shoulder blades.

José gathers up his last remaining scraps of dignity and turns his head, breaking the kiss. James rests his mouth against his neck. “We can stop now,” he says. “Go back to your wife.”

James pushes away from José and slides his hands over his shoulders, holding him at arm’s length. His belt hangs open and José tears his eyes away. “You can’t just push me away like that.”

“It’s what you want.” José laughs incredulously. “You came to tell me to stay away.”

James rubs his hands over his face and groans. “You got me all messed up.”

“Stop blaming me,” José snaps, tugging James’s hands away from his face. “It’s not all my fault.”

“I wouldn’t have done this if—”

José scowls. “If what? If I don’t make you? I don’t make you do any—”

“I don’t cheat on my wife,” James says, and it takes every fiber of José’s being to not laugh in his face.

“You are,” he says.

“I’m better than this,” James says, quietly, blue eyes boring into José’s. “You tripped me up.”

José reaches out to slap at his chest. “You’re not better, you’re just as bad as me, you—”

James grabs his wrist and pulls him back into his chest, an arm winding around his waist and holding him tightly. His lips are soft and warm and open on José’s throat, as he sucks another mark into his skin. José closes his eyes and sighs. 

Despite himself, José strokes a hand on James’s back and stares up at the blank ceiling. His eyes snag on long, spidery cracks that web out like a protective netting. 

José closes his eyes and gives in to it, letting himself sink into James’s embrace. 

James pushes him back against the wall again, gently this time. “You in?”

José just nods, not trusting himself to open his mouth. He feels words clogging his throat—angry words, hurtful words, words full of too much feeling—but he just swallows them all down. Instead, he holds a hand out to James. He hesitates for a moment before wrapping his hand back around José’s. James pulls him over to the bed and guides him onto it with a hand over his chest.

James slips a hand loosely around José’s throat and kisses him again, thumb pressing gently over his Adam’s apple. He slips his other hand between their waists and tugs José’s zipper down. He gets both their cocks out and pulls away for a moment to spit into his palm, then wraps his hand firmly around them both.

José clutches at James’s back and rolls his hips into his fist. James presses his mouth against José’s shoulder and bites him through his T-shirt. The mark on his neck, from the other day, still burns.

James’s hand slips and slides over their cocks, jerky, erratic. José could probably get himself off better than this.

He digs his fingers into James’s back and holds on. James murmurs something into José’s ear that sounds vaguely encouraging. José would laugh if he didn’t think James would assume he’s laughing at him.

It’s—James is—surprisingly _nice_ tonight. Things usually aren’t this gentle. José kind of likes it. If things between them were more like this… Well, maybe this wouldn’t be the last time.

“C’mon,” James says, sliding his hand back around José’s throat. He rubs his thumb along José’s stubbly jawline. “Come for me. C’mon.”

José opens his eyes. “Bossy.”

“You’re close,” James says, squeezing his other hand around José’s cock. “You need a little more?”

José nods as best he can with James’s hand around his neck.

James tightens his grip, thumb tucking in under José’s chin. José closes his eyes, strains against James’s hand. 

José tries to swallow past the hand on his throat. 

James’s lips brush against his, the lightest of touches, barely even a kiss. The contrast of the kiss to his big hand wrapped around José’s throat is what finally pushes José over the edge. 

James pulls away and wipes his hand off on the leg of José’s pants. José slumps back against the mattress and brushes his fingers over his aching throat. James finishes himself off quickly, a couple twists and jerks of his wrist and then he’s spilling over his fist.

José rolls onto his side and rests his cheek on his arm. The sleeve of his shirt is damp and he sits up to tug it over his head. He uses it to mop up the mess and then tosses it at James’s face.

James bats it away from his face and looks down at the screen printed logo on the front. “I should get back,” he says, deliberately slowly.

José glances over. “You should. It’s late.”

James nods, flinging José’s soiled shirt away and getting out of the bed. “Yeah. Jess is probably asleep by now…”

José settles back on the bed and tucks his arm under his head. James stays standing at the foot of the bed. “No more. I’m done now.”

James comes over to the side of the bed and leans down, pressing a hand over José’s chest. “Are you gonna… Will you be there Sunday?” he asks.

“Haven’t decided,” José says.

James sighs and presses his lips softly against the corner of José’s mouth. “Okay. I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

James slips away and stands up tall, zipping his pants up and buckling his belt. Then he lets himself out of José’s room and shuts the door behind him with a click.

José rolls onto his stomach, shoves his face into a pillow, and falls asleep.

***

They head off to Boston on the next leg of their lengthy trip, and that’s the series José has had circled on his calendar from the very start. Not just because he likes playing his old team, but because he’ll get to catch up with certain old friends. 

When the team gets to their hotel, some of the guys chat him up about his plans for that night. Aníbal is taking his wife, Ana, and their little girl to a water park, and does José want to come along?

“I got a date,” José tells him, grinning and patting Aníbal on the shoulder. “Old flame.”

Aníbal laughs, sounding delighted for José. “Sounds better than going to a water park with some old married couple.”

“You and Ana aren’t bad company, but I like her company a little more,” José teases, giving Aníbal a friendly shove. “You tell _Princesa_ Anabella I come some other time, okay?”

“Okay, she’ll like that,” Aníbal says, clapping José on the shoulder and slipping away for the receptionist’s desk.

José pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks for a message from his _friend_. Nothing yet. José’s not surprised. He doesn’t recall Maria ever being punctual in the two years they dated while he was yo-yoing between Boston and Pawtucket. No reason for her to start now.

He shoves his phone back in his pocket and follows after Aníbal to get his room key.

James and Jess are waiting at the desk with Aníbal, looking over some sort of touristy brochure. José turns his back on the two of them and digs out his phone to see if Maria’s texted back yet.

Nothing.

“Hon, I’m thinkin’ we oughta check out the Freedom Trail this time,” Jess is saying, pointing at something in her glossy brochure. “We didn’t do that when we came last year and I always wanted to.”

“Whatever you want, babe,” James says, indulgently. When José sneaks a look at James, over his shoulder, he’s hunched over his phone, thumbs flying.

“What do _you_ wanna do, hon? You always just go along with what I want,” Jess says, shaking the brochure under his nose.

James looks up at her. “I’m fine with whatever you wanna do, babe. Honest.”

José turns back around, suppressing a snort of laughter. 

Finally, Maria’s texted back.

 **Sorry, had work problem and I can’t make it. We can reschedule.**.

José glares down at his phone and fires off a hasty reply. **Really??**

**Yes really, I can’t get away.**

José sighs and taps out a response. **I can’t believe you’re blowing me off, we planned this months ago.**

**Work comes first, you know all about that. Bye Jose.**

José slaps his phone down on the desk with a frustrated growl.

“You okay?” Aníbal shoulders the strap of his carry-on bag over his shoulder.

“My—my friend, she can’t meet up,” José says, shifting his eyes away from Aníbal and James and Jess. “Is nothing, no big deal.”

“You free to come to the water park now,” Aníbal says, grinning and giving José a nudge in the shoulder.

José laughs and slips his phone back in his pocket. “ _Princesa_ Anabella is probably better company, when I think about it.”

“ _Ella es, sin duda_ ,” Aníbal agrees, laughing.

James slips away from Jess, a hand trailing over her bare arm.

José hopes he doesn’t come over to talk.

“This reminds me why me and Maria didn’t work.” José rubs at the back of his neck. 

“You need good wingman,” Aníbal says, jerking a thumb at his own chest. 

“I think I just need to not date people who don’t like me,” José says, with a slightly awkward laugh.

“That’s a good start too.” Aníbal grins and slaps José on the chest. 

A hand closes around his arm and José looks over. James lets go of him and tucks his hands into his pockets. “Hey, wanted to talk to you about somethin’.” 

“Okay,” José says, folding his arms over his chest. “What’s up?”

“Privately,” James says.

José studies his face, his cool blue eyes. “All right,” he says, nodding a little. “We can talk.”

They walk to the elevators together, in relative silence. Finally, José’s curiosity gets the better of him and he tugs on James’s arm, pulling him to a stop. James looks back at him, lifting his eyebrows in question.

“Where’d Jess go?” he asks.

“She went up to the room for a nap,” James says, pulling his arm away. 

José steps back and shoves his hands in his pockets. “So, what do you wanna talk about then?”

“You’re meeting up with somebody?” James asks.

José glares at him. “You weren’t listening? Plans changed,” he snaps, his irritation winding all around him like tight, twisting, thorny vines.

“What happened?” James leans against the wall.

“I dunno, something with her work. It’s how it always is,” José says, waving dismissively. “Not surprised.”

“Sorry your plans fell through,” James says, though he doesn’t sound very sorry at all. 

José meets his eyes. “You’re not. You’re enjoying this. You like I got stood up.”

“Didn’t say that at all.” James steps away from the wall and raises his palms, but he’s grinning too.

José takes a swing at his shoulder. “I hate you.”

James closes his hands around José’s and pushes them down. But he doesn’t let go. “Sounds like your plans need a little rearranging.”

“Guess I’ll just stay in and watch some TV and then go to bed,” José says, trying to twist his hands out of James’s. 

“Sounds boring.” James lets go, fingers trailing over the back of José’s hand. “I’ve got a better idea.”

José should tell him _no_. James’s ideas always end the same way, with the two of them naked and sweaty in bed together. Or fighting. Or both.

“What’s your idea?” José asks, rubbing at the back of his hand.

“Going back to your room,” James says, putting a hand on José’s back.

José thinks about Jess sleeping alone in hers and James’s hotel room and sighs. “You sure that’s actually a good idea?”

“No, absolutely not,” James replies, flashing José a perfect silver of a smile.

“It never is,” José points out.

“What is?” James asks.

“This.” José points his finger into James’s chest.

James closes his hand around José’s. “Startin’ to think that’s what keeps you comin’ back.”

“What’s your excuse?” José asks, letting James keep his hand around his.

James opens his mouth to answer, then closes it. José is content to wait him out, but the sound of footsteps on the marble floor sends him to a set of elevator doors on the opposite side of the lobby. James trails after him, hands going into his pockets.

An older woman, her silvery hair piled atop her head in elaborate ringlets, slips between them to press a button on the elevator panel.

José nods to her and she nods back, smiling, before turning her attention to her phone. 

James grabs onto José’s elbow and tugs him away.

“What—”

“Let’s take the stairs,” he mutters.

“They have stairs?” José laughs.

James leads José to a set of doors, pulling them open, and ushers him into the stairwell. The air is stale and oppressive, settling on José’s skin like a blanket. 

José looks up the seemingly never ending flight of stairs and laughs some more.

“Yeah, this is way more fun than getting my dick sucked by a pretty girl,” he quips. “Your ideas are bad.”

James catches him by the arm. “If all you wanted was a blow job, you could’ve just asked.”

José shoves him. “I hate you,” he reiterates, but he’s still laughing. 

José can think of a hundred better ways to spend his time, with people who actually like being with him, but this is—maybe—not the worst way to kill a few minutes. 

Their laughter echoes off the walls as they clip up the stairs.

When they get to the floor the team is staying on, James pulls José back before he can open the door. José leans out over the railing and looks down, and he feels James’s fingers curl around his. It’s a long drop from this height.

James slips his hands over José’s shoulders and presses him against the wall. José just looks at him, his heart leaping into his throat. He tightens his fingers on James's arm and James leans in, fingers grazing his chin, and brings his mouth down on José’s. José clings to James’s arm and kisses him back, sucking his tongue into his mouth, pushing up against him. James’s fingers move from his chin to his cheek.

James pulls back just enough, his breath skimming José’s lips. He brushes his knuckles over José’s cheek.

José slips his hands from James’s arms to hold onto his waist. 

James’s lips press back against José’s in chaste little kisses, fingers still curled against his cheek.

José’s heart sinks, even as James keeps peppering light kisses over his lips and his cheek and his eyelids. When they push open the door and step into the hall, this has to end.

That’s fine. José’s always known that’s how it has to be.

José pulls himself away from James and pushes the door open. His lips still tingle and he reaches up to brush his fingers over his mouth. 

He looks at James, shrugs at him.

“You coming or no?” he asks. His voice sounds foreign to his ears, thick and gritty and not his own. 

Being with James turns him into a different person. Another reason this has to stop.

“Yeah,” James says.

They step through the door and José lets it bang shut behind them.

José reaches up and cards his fingers through his hair, ruffles it. He feels James’s hand skim lightly down his back.

“You should go check on Jess,” José says, turning toward him and patting him on the chest.

James glances down at his hand. “She’s fine. She’s just taking a nap.”

“I know, but you could go check to be sure.” José should pull his hand away, but he’ll let himself have this.

James clasps his hand over José’s for a moment before pulling it down. He glances at José’s face. “You’ll be all right?”

“I’ve been stood up before,” José says, rolling his eyes, rubbing his thumb over James’s knuckles. “I’m just gonna drink a little and then sleep.”

James turns his hand, catching hold of José’s thumb. “All right. See you in the morning.”

“Yeah. See you.” José pulls his hand away.

James turns and heads down the hall for his and Jess’s room. He pauses in front of the door, glances back at José. Gives a stupid little wave before opening the door and stepping in.

He did the right thing. José’s sure of it. He just wishes it made him feel better. 

***

José’s waiting in the lobby the following morning, scanning through missed text messages when someone calls out his name.

“José! José, there you are!”

He glances up. Maria strides into the lobby, shouldering the strap of her purse, and rushes up to give him a hug. José slips his arms around her and hugs back.

“Surprised you made it this time,” José jokes, letting her go.

Maria flips long, glossy black hair over a shoulder and curves her blood-red lips into a wry smile. “You’re still my favorite person, after all these years. Had to find a way to squeeze you into my busy schedule.”

José laughs and slips an arm around her waist. “You flatter me,” he says, pressing a hand to his chest dramatically.

Maria laughs and leans into his shoulder. “Why’d we break up again?”

“I’m an asshole, that’s why,” José says, giving her a gentle squeeze around the waist. “I hope you managed to get over me. I know it’s probably hard, since I’m so—”

“Now I’m starting to remember,” she says, pushing him away and laughing brightly.

José smiles at her, a warm, fond feeling unraveling in his chest. He reaches out for her hand. “So, breakfast, yes?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Maria takes his hand.

“Hey, Iggy!”

José turns, slowly, letting Maria’s hand slip from his. James walks up to the two of them, Jess trailing behind. The two of them are wearing matching American flag T-shirts and Jess has a red-white-and-blue bandana wrapped around her hair. 

“Hi, I don’t think we’ve met!” Jess tucks her purse under her arm and and offers her hand to Maria. “Are you José’s girlfriend?”

Maria laughs, taking Jess’s hand and shaking it. “No, no, oh no. Not for a long time.”

“We’re just headed off for breakfast, then we’re gonna check out the Freedom Trail,” Jess says, smiling sweetly at Maria. “Y’all’re more than welcome to join us.”

“We’re off for breakfast, actually,” José says, flashing Jess a smile he hopes comes off as apologetic. He puts a hand on the small of Maria’s back and tugs her into his hip.

“Y’all can just come with us then! We don’t mind!” Jess says, gesturing to herself and James.

José glances at James, but James refuses to meet his eyes. 

“It’s really okay,” José says. “You guys have a good, uh, tour.”

“Okay, well, we’ll see y’all later then,” Jess says, patting José on the arm. Jess and James turn and head out of the lobby, her hand slipping into his like a lock into a key.

José finally tears his eyes away from them to find Maria rolling her eyes at him.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head, reaching into her purse and pulling out a pair of sunglasses. She perches them atop her hair. “You ready to go?”

José holds his arm out to Maria and she links her arm with his. 

As they head out of the lobby and José lifts a hand to hail a cab, he catches a whiff of her flowery perfume. Her long hair gets blown into his face by the wind and José spits it out of his mouth, laughing. 

“Marité,” José says, running his hand over her arm. Maria turns and gives him a curious look. “You ever think of… Getting back together. Like, with me?”

She frowns. “You getting sentimental now?”

“No. Just wondering,” he says, patting the hand of hers that rests on his arm. “I don’t got anybody with me in Detroit, and we had some good times together. Didn’t we?”

Maria sighs. “You know it wouldn’t work.”

“You don’t know it won’t work this time,” José says, defensively.

“I do, ’cause you’re still you and I’m still me. Oil and water, the two of us,” she says, touching his shoulder. 

“Maybe that’s why I liked you so much,” José counters.

“We exhaust each other,” Maria says, clapping her hand over José’s. “It’s fun for a while, then you get tired of it. You find a nice girl.”

José watches the cars pass by. 

_A nice girl._

A slick yellow taxi pulls up the curb and José opens the door for Maria. She gets in and he slides in next to her.

Maria rests her hand on his knee and José covers her hand with his own.

***

José gets back to the hotel a little while later, after having the taxi drop Maria off in front of her office building. It had been nice just to catch up with her, find out how she’d been doing since his last trip into Boston. 

(Apparently, she’s been doing very well without him. He isn’t bothered by it. She deserves it after spending two years with José, being continually let down.)

He gets back to his hotel room and sorts through the different cards in his wallet for his room key, and makes a mental note to throw away all the old key cards he’s hung onto.

“Hey, Iggy, just the guy I wanted to see.”

José spins around to find himself face to face with Ian Kinsler.

“Yeah?” José asks.

“Me and Tess are taking the kids to see the penguins at the zoo,” he says, walking over to José and clipping him on the shoulder. “You wanna come? They’re pretty damn cute, if I do say so myself.”

“Who, your kids?” José asks.

“No, the penguins,” Ian says, rolling his eyes, slipping his hand off José’s shoulder and into his pocket.

“Oh, sure,” José says, smiling. “That sounds fun.”

“All right, we’re gonna head off in a few,” Ian says.

“Anyone else coming?" José asks. If James and Jess are invited, José thinks he’ll politely beg off and stay in for the afternoon.

“I think Aníbal, Ana, and their little girl are,” Ian says. “Asked the McCanns but I haven’t heard back yet.”

“I think I heard them saying they’re going to check out the art museum,” José blurts out before he can stop himself. “So they can’t make it.”

“Okay, sweet. Meet us down in the lobby.” Ian pats him on the shoulder and hustles off.

José finally finds the correct room key and lets himself into his room. After helping himself to a bottled water from the minibar, José changes into a T-shirt and shorts and goes down to meet up with the Kinslers and Sanchezes in the lobby.

Aníbal’s little girl has on a T-shirt with sequins in the shape of fat black penguins. Her curly black hair is held back with penguin barrettes. 

“Someone’s excited for the penguins,” José says, laughing.

“It’s all she’s been talking about,” Ana says, taking the little girl’s chubby hand in hers. 

Aníbal ruffles his daughter’s hair affectionately. “She’s more excited to see the penguins than she was to see me.”

“I’m more excited to see the penguins, too,” his wife teases, prodding him in the chest.

Aníbal laughs and slips his arm around her shoulders. The little girl looks up at José and offers him a shy smile before hiding herself behind Ana’s legs.

José laughs and gives her a wave. 

“You guys ready to go?” Ian ushers a tall, attractive brunette and two fair-haired kids in matching Franklin Park Zoo T-shirts into the lobby.

“Waiting on you,” José calls out, cupping a hand around his mouth.

“I’m old and slow. Fu— _ow_.” Ian rubs his arm and glares at his wife for approximately two seconds before bursting into laughter. Tess just smiles and slips her hand into the crook of his elbow. 

José looks from Aníbal and Ana to Ian and Tess, lets his eyes skate over the three beaming children. 

They’re all so normal. Nice people. Nice families.

José pulls his sunglasses out of his pocket and slips them onto his face. 

“Let’s go see some penguins, guys,” he says, clapping his hands at Ian’s kids.

The little girl—Rian—grins up at him, the tip of her tongue poking through a gap in her teeth. “We already saw the penguins but Mommy said we can see them again.”

“Maybe if we’re good, they’ll let us take one home,” José says, offering Rian his hand in a conspiratorial high five.

Rian grins and slaps his hand. “Mommy, can we take a penguin home?”

“If it comes from the zoo gift shop, absolutely,” Tess says, dryly.

A shuttle pulls up in front of the hotel a few minutes later and they all pile in and buckle themselves up. José sits in the back and looks out the tinted window. People stream up and down the sidewalk, holding hands, chatting conversationally, shouting into their phones. 

José sighs.

Aníbal leans over the back of his seat. “ _¿Como estás?_ ” he asks.

José pauses to think about the question before answering, “ _Estoy bien_. ”

“ _¿Estás seguro?_ ” Aníbal asks.

José shrugs. “ _Más o menos_. ” 

“ _¿Quieres hablar de eso?_ ” 

“ _No realmente,_ ” he says. 

Aníbal shrugs and turns back around. José reaches out and gives him a pat on the shoulder before letting his hand slip away. 

The shuttle pulls away from the sidewalk and José looks back out the window at the sky. It’s artificially dark thanks to the tinted windows, like someone’s draped gray gauze over his eyes. 

José feels his heart lurch in his chest as the shuttle comes to a rolling stop at a red light. 

He glances at Aníbal’s daughter. She has an iPad in her lap and she’s poking her stubby little fingers at the screen. 

José smiles a little bit to himself and looks back out the window. 

*** 

They get back late in the afternoon, loaded up with souvenirs and snacks. Little Anabella can’t stop gushing about the penguins, as she clutches onto an oversized stuffed penguin. Ian’s kids have stuffed penguins of their own tucked under their arms. José watches Ian chase his wife around the lobby with some sort of remote control robot he picked up in the souvenir shop. 

José leans back against the wall and watches, mildly amused. 

It was a good afternoon, he thinks. He didn’t think of James at all, which is how he’s started judging the quality of his days. 

Ian runs into José’s ankle with the toy robot. “Beep beep, motherfucker.” 

José rolls his eyes and lifts his foot so the robot can roll under. “Loser.” 

“You’ll treat my robot son with respect.” Ian scoops the toy up and holds it under his arm. 

“I meant you,” José says. 

“Oh, I know.” Ian grins. “Thanks for spending the afternoon with us, Iggy. The kids really had a good time.” 

“I did too,” José says, smiling back. “It was a lot of fun.” 

Ian pats him on the shoulder. “Rest up and see you at the park tomorrow.” 

“See you, Ian.” José gives Ian and Tess a wave as they head for the elevators with the kids. 

After they’re gone, José pulls out his phone and checks for any missed messages before making his way to the hotel bar for a nightcap. 

José slips onto a stool at the bar and studies a list of mixed drinks before settling on one and handing off his credit card to the bartender. She’s got a pretty impressive sleeve inked onto her arm, dragons and fire and scales, and José tells her so. 

“Thanks,” she says, eyeing him coolly, and he realizes she thought he was trying to flirt. 

“I’m not trying to flirt,” he says. 

The bartender shakes her head and puts down a napkin. “It’s cool. Long day.” She pushes his drink and him and goes off to take care of another bar patron. 

José sips his drink and focuses on a bulky TV mounted to the wall over the bar. 

A hand slips over the back of his neck and José stiffens, before turning slowly to see who it is. 

“Hey.” James slides onto a stool next to him and flags down the tattooed bartender for a drink. “Diet Dr. Pepper, please.” 

“Comin’ right up,” she says, and ducks behind the counter. 

“You come to a bar and you order soda?” José scoffs. 

“Not a big drinker,” James says. He nods at José’s drink. “What’d you get?” 

“Vodka cran,” José says, licking the sweetness of the drink off his lips. “Is sweet.” 

James accepts his soda and a napkin. “I bet.” 

José looks at the shiny black countertop and traces his fingers over it, leaving behind smudged fingerprints. “Yeah.” 

James sips his drink. “What’re you up to?”

José looks back at him. “Gonna finish my drink, maybe have another one, then bed. You?” 

“Jess is sleeping,” he says, shrugging. “Can’t shut my brain off so I came down here for a drink.” 

José nods, running his tongue over his bottom lip until the taste of cranberry juice is gone. “I think I’m gonna head back up then,” he says, slipping off the stool and putting his glass down. 

James puts his glass down too and looks up at José. “Can I just…” He stops, then trails off. 

“What?” José asks, sighing, as he waits impatiently for the bartender to bring back his card. 

James shrugs. “Can I come up to your room? I just… I don’t wanna wake Jess up and I just…” 

José sighs. “I think you know why that’s not a good idea.” 

James frowns, a line forming between his eyebrows. “I don’t wanna… You know. I just need to turn my brain off and—” 

“So you ask me?” José shakes his head and slips in beside James to get his card from the bartender. He pauses, resting a hand on his back. “I’d invite you up if I knew nothing was gonna happen. But I don’t.” 

“It won’t,” James says. 

José steps back. “Look. I don’t wanna do this anymore.” 

James looks back at him, over his shoulder. “What d’you mean?” 

“Like, whenever you’re… We can’t talk here.” José shoves his card in his pocket and backs away. “Just leave it. For some other time.” 

“I wanna talk,” James says, getting off his stool and shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“We can talk in the lobby then,” José says. 

James shakes his head. “Somewhere private.” 

“No. We can talk in the lobby or you can go back to Jess,” José says, softly, crossing his arms over his chest. 

James rubs his hands over his face. “Fine. If that’s what you want.” 

José leads them out of the bar and stops by a bench situated in front of a window. The place is mostly empty, except for a bored receptionist behind a desk. He appears to be playing on his phone and José finds that somewhat reassuring. 

He sits on the bench and looks up at James, patting an empty spot next to him. James hesitates for a moment before sitting next to José, too close. 

José slides away, giving himself a little bit of space. “So, what did you wanna talk about?” 

James rests his hands on his knees. José says nothing about the fact he’s not wearing his wedding band. 

“I dunno, I didn’t really have a speech planned or anything,” James mutters, fingers twitching over his knee. “Just wanted to talk to you.” 

“Why?” José asks, laughing. “We don’t talk. We’re not friends.” 

James glances at him. “I can’t wanna talk to you?” 

“Not saying that. Just saying.” José smiles wryly. 

James rubs a hand over his chin. “I know. It’s just, there’re some things I can’t talk to Jess about. She wouldn’t understand.” 

“I’m the next best choice?” José tucks his hands in his pockets. 

James laughs, but there’s nothing behind it. “I guess,” he says. 

“That’s great. Makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside,” José quips. 

James drops his hands in his lap and sighs deeply. “Sorry. Didn’t mean it like that.” James puts up his hand like he’s going to pat José on the knee, but he must think better of it. He lets his hand drop back into his lap. “Feels like I haven’t seen you in months.” 

José gives James a pointed look. “Whose idea was that?” 

James looks away and swallows, throat bobbing. “Mine.” 

“You were right, you know,” José says, and James looks back at him. “That it should stop.” 

“I—I know,” James says. “And it is. Better.” 

“Right,” José says, tucking his arms around himself. “It’s better. You’re happy.” 

“Can’t remember the last time me and Jess have been together this long,” James says quietly. 

“Must be nice.” José looks ahead of him, at that bored receptionist. 

“She’s been dragging me to every touristy hot spot in her brochure, like she thinks they’re gonna close ’em all down and board ’em up before she can get to ’em,” James says. 

“I went to see the penguins,” José says. 

James laughs. “Penguins?” 

“Ian and Tess and Aníbal and Ana took their kids, and they took me along,” José says, allowing himself to laugh too. “The kids had a good time.” 

James stands up and José does too, crossing his arms over his chest and feeling awkward now. 

“Did you?” James asks. 

"It was…” José pauses, trailing off as he thinks about that afternoon. “Yeah. It was nice. I liked it.” 

“Good,” James says. He touches José’s shoulder, just a glancing blow. 

José glances at him, offers him a tiny smile. “You feel better now we talk?” 

James slips his hand over José’s shoulder but doesn’t move to pull him closer or push him away. “A little bit.” 

“Good.” José looks down at the marble tile under his feet. 

“José,” James says. 

“Yeah?” 

James moves his hand away from his shoulder and José thinks for a moment that he’s going to leave. 

“Thanks for, uh… Listening.” James throws an arm around him and gathers him against his chest in a quick hug. He steps back and pulls his hands away. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Yeah,” José says, staring at him. “No problem.” 

James turns and heads for the elevators, head down, hands shoved deep in his pockets. José watches after him and, once he’s out of his line of sight, rubs his hands over his face. 

José makes his way for the elevators a little while later. His stomach’s been doing nervous flips all night and not even a second drink is enough to quell them. He just needs to get back to his room and sleep this off. 

After he takes the elevator to his floor and gets out, José turns and stumbles right into James. 

“Good Lord, you scared the crap out of me,” James says, stepping back. 

“Why don’t you watch where you’re going,” José mutters. 

James sweeps a hand through his hair. “Could say the same for you,” he says, leaning back against the wall. 

José digs out his key card and brandishes it. “Since you’re already here. You want to come in for another drink?” 

“Sure,” James says, pushing away from the wall. 

José slides the card through the reader, suddenly very aware of James’s warmth at his back. 

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. 

José pushes open the door and lets them in. James closes it quietly behind them. 

If he doesn’t turn around to look at him, he can pretend James isn’t here. He can pretend he doesn’t still want to push him against the wall or sink to his knees in front of him—or both. He can pretend he still doesn’t want him. 

José opens the minibar and digs through bottles and containers before coming up with some Powerade. He turns, nudging the door shut with his hip. 

“Here.” José tosses the bottle of Powerade to James, who catches it and cradles it against his chest. 

“Thanks.” James opens it and takes a long drag. He set the bottle aside on an end table tucked in along the wall, beside the bed. 

José looks at his wet fingers before turning his attention to his bottled water. 

James sits himself on the end of the bed and clasps his hands between his knees. Normally, he’d be putting his hands all over José by now. José puts his bottle aside. 

“So…” José goes over and sits next to him. He bumps his knee against James’s. “Feeling better?” 

“I feel great,” James says, nudging his knee back against José’s. 

“I’m happy for that,” José says, and James turns to look at him. 

“You are?” James reaches up like he’s going to brush José’s hair off his forehead, but he stops his hand before he can touch him. 

“Yeah,” José says. “I dunno why.” 

“ ’Cause you’re good,” James says. 

José rolls his eyes. “Right.” 

“You are.” James lets his hand drop heavily over José’s knee. He gives it a squeeze. 

José doesn’t know what to do with any of this, so he just shrugs. “Thanks, I guess.” 

James slips his hand away from José’s knee and takes a deep breath that he holds for a few seconds. He lets it go on a sigh. 

“Something on your mind?” José asks, touching the back of his hand, rubbing it. 

James wraps his fingers around José’s hand, holding it still. “I’m good.” 

“You sure?” José presses. 

James turns then, pulling his hand away to cup the back of José’s neck. But he doesn’t pull him closer. He just holds him and stares into his eyes for a moment, before cutting his gaze away. 

José touches his arm, squeezes gently. 

James’s thumb rubs over his neck. “I’m sure.” 

“Okay.” José sighs and shakes his head, laughing a little under his breath. 

James’s fingers tip his chin up and then he does kiss him. 

When he pulls away, José tugs him back by the front of his shirt and brushes his lips over James’s. His hand rests lightly on José’s knee. 

José is the one to break this kiss. He slips his hands away from James and smoothes the wrinkles in his shirt. 

James glances down. “Sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” José leaves his hands over his chest. 

James reaches up and rubs his thumb over José’s fingers. “I didn’t come up to get you into bed. Not this time. I know you don’t believe that, but—” 

“I’m saying it’s fine.” José holds his hands in his lap. 

James curls a hand over José’s and squeezes tight. “I should probably go.” 

“Probably,” José agrees. 

“I wanna stay.” James laces his fingers with José’s. 

“You can’t,” José says, staring at the back of his hand. At James’s fingers entwined with his. 

“I know.” James leans in and kisses José again, fingers brushing against his jawline. 

José pulls his hand free to wrap his arms around James’s neck. James pushes him back and crawls over him, a hand slipping under his shirt. 

The warning bells are silent tonight. 

James kisses him under his jawline and down his throat, over his collarbone to his shoulder. José slides his hands under James’s shirt and up his back, slowly, bunching up the material under his arms. 

“What’re you doing?” he asks, with a laugh. 

James raises his head from José’s shoulder. “What’s it look like I’m doin’?” he asks, frowning down at José. 

José laughs some more and tugs James back down to kiss him on the mouth. José feels him smile against his lips before kissing him again. He pushes José’s shirt up his chest with his other hand. 

José sits up and pulls it off, then reaches out and helps James out of his own shirt. The rest of their clothes end up in a heap by the side of the bed. 

James slips his hands over José’s cheeks and pull him back into another kiss. Then his hands are slipping away from José’s face—he reaches after him—and he’s crawling down the length of José’s body to take his cock in his mouth. 

José threads his fingers in James’s hair and closes his eyes. 

Giving blow jobs isn’t James’s strong suit, but what he lacks in ability he makes up for in enthusiasm. 

He wraps a hand around what he can’t fit into his mouth—James has never been able to deep throat him, which makes José feel more than a little smug—and then pauses long enough to pop off of José’s dick with a smack. He spits over the head and pumps his fist, making everything sloppy and wet, before taking José back into his mouth. 

José lets his fingers stop sifting through James’s short brown hair. 

It doesn’t take much more before José’s shaking underneath James, clutching at his hair, his cheek. James pulls off his cock again, right as his orgasm surges, and José ends up shooting his load across his swollen lips. 

James wipes his mouth off on the comforter, smearing some of José’s come across his cheek. José laughs and motions for him to come closer, and he does. He reaches out and brushes it away, pushing his thumb between James’s lips. 

“How about you,” José asks, rubbing his thumb across James’s soft, swollen bottom lip. 

“I wanna fuck your mouth,” James says against José’s fingertips. 

“Basic,” José jokes. 

James shrugs. “Simple man with simple desires. What can I say?” 

“C’mere.” José settles back down against the pillows and beckons for James to come close. 

James goes to kneel beside José and slowly slides the head of his cock past his lips. His thrusts are shallow and careful at first, but he gets bolder and he ends up straddling José’s chest. 

He fucks José’s mouth with a languid roll of his hips and José reaches up to grab hold of his thigh. James’s fingers stroke down his temple and the side of his face. James’s weight is heavy on his chest. 

José dig his fingers into the meat of James’s thigh and makes an encouraging sound. 

James runs his thumb over José’s lips, knuckles pressing against his chin. “Love your mouth,” he says, and José opens his eyes and flips James off. He just laughs and pushes José’s arm down. “Feels so good.” 

José wraps a hand around James’s cock and slides it out of his mouth to rasp, “Shut up.” 

James laughs some more, fingers resting against his cheek. “I’m pretty close. You can finish me off with your hands if you want.” 

José slides his fist down the length of James’s shaft. “Will it stop you from talking?” 

“Maybe.” James slips his hand away from José’s face. 

“Worth a try.” 

José sits up a little bit and starts pumping his fist on James’s cock, fingers sliding in the saliva and his own pre-come, making everything slippery and messy. James’s hands land on his shoulders and press gently. 

James comes just a little while later, across José’s lips and face. He doesn’t move off of José’s chest, and he can feel James shaking a little bit as he comes down from it. 

José swipes the back of his hand across his face and ends up smearing James’s come more than wiping it up. James rolls off of his chest and onto his back next to José. 

José turns onto his side and studies James’s profile for a few quiet minutes, the only sound in the hotel room the sound of the ceiling fan. 

“What’re you looking at?” James finally asks. 

“Nothing,” José says, pulling his eyes away from James’s face. 

James throws an arm out blindly and gropes along the mattress until his hand collides with José’s arm. His fingers move up José’s arm, slowly, over his bicep. 

José sighs and rubs his cheek against the back of James’s hand when it comes to a stop on his shoulder. 

“I should probably go,” James says, sighing up at the ceiling. “Before Jess wakes up and freaks out ’cause I’m not there.” 

José curls in closer and slips an arm around James’s waist. “You could stay a little longer,” he says, even though he knows James won’t. 

“I can’t.” James sits up next to José and lets his hand fall away from his shoulder. 

José grabs one of his pillows and holds it to his chest. “I know.” 

James glances at him, eyebrows knitting over crystal-clear blue eyes. “I—I wish I could.” 

José doesn’t believe that, but calling James out on it now will just bring things down. And they’re actually doing okay right now. 

“You don’t have to go into it,” he says, with a practiced shrug. 

James picks up his hand and holds onto it with loose fingers. “Sometimes,” he says, haltingly, and then lets the unsaid words dangle in the silence between them. 

José gets tired of waiting for him to finish the sentence. “What? _Sometimes_ what?” 

James rubs his thumb over a vein in José’s wrist. “I—I don’t know. Sometimes, I wish things could’ve been different.” 

José tugs his hand away. “I know you don’t like me much but would it kill you not to lie at my face?” 

James meets José’s eyes, shakes his head. “What? I’m not lying.” 

José rubs his hands over his face and frowns when flecks of dried jizz flake off. “I’m not dumb.” 

“I know that,” James says, with a spark of irritation that sets José at ease. 

He can deal with irritation and anger. It’s all the other stuff that throws him off his game. 

“We both know you like things just fine how they are. You got me on speed dial when you feel like fucking around, that’s it,” José says. “Don’t treat me like I’m an idiot.” 

James glares at him. “Stop acting like one, then.” 

José grabs his pillow and shoves it into James’s face. He bats it away easily. “You’re right, you should go.” 

“Why’re you actin’ like… Good Lord, I don’t understand you.” James gets up and starts searching for his clothes. “I was just tryin’ to be straight with you.” 

“You could’ve changed things if you wanted them to be different,” José says, getting out of bed and grabbing a fresh pair of boxers out of his duffel bag. “But you don’t. So things are how they are.” 

James steps into the legs of his pants and pulls them up. “You can’t pin this all on me.” 

“It’s not on _me_ ,” José says, putting his hands on his hips. 

James looks at him. “I don’t know what you want me to say.” 

“Be honest,” José snaps. 

“I _was_ be—you know what, it’s not worth it. It’s just not worth it.” James grabs his shirt off the floor and pulls it on, yanking hard enough on it that he rips the stitches in the shoulder seam. 

“Now you’re getting warmer,” José says, leaning in and tugging at the stray thread. 

James lifts a hand like he’s going to shove him away, but instead he just lets it land on his chest. “What’re you doin’?” 

José twists the thread around his finger. “You got a loose thread on your—” 

“No,” James says, pulling his hand down. “That’s not what I’m talkin’ about.” 

José has a speech prepared and ready to roll off his tongue—gotta stop this for good, I want something different, you’re no good for me—but when he opens his mouth it all flies out his brain. 

“I… I dunno,” José says instead. He snaps his mouth shut. 

James let go of his hand. His mouth twitches. “That’s what I thought.” He leans in, sliding a hand around the back of José’s neck. “Why don’t we just—” 

José slips his hands to James’s waist. 

James’s phone start going off in his pocket, blasting some jangly ringtone, and his face goes completely white. He pulls away from José and digs the phone out, holding it to his ear. 

“Hey,” he says, doing a remarkably good job of sounding calm and composed. 

José wraps his arms around himself and just watches, as James paces from the bed to the minibar and grabs a bottled water. 

“I’m sorry, hon. I couldn’t sleep so I went down to the gym,” James says, forcing out an awkward laugh. 

José sighs and rubs at his forehead. 

“I’ll be back in a sec, hon. Sorry for scarin’ you,” James says, his tone going soft and warm. 

José frowns at the carpet. He finishes pulling on the rest of his clothes and starts digging in his carry-on bag for his wallet and room key. Once he finds what he’s looking for, José stuffs his wallet into his pocket and grabs his phone off the nightstand next to his bed. 

When he turns around, James is still on the line with his wife, trying to placate her. 

“Next time, I swear I’ll wake you up first. I promise. We can go check out the gym together, soon as I get back,” James says, smiling a little. “If you want, I’ll bring you back a souvenir from the gift shop as penance.” 

José slips his feet into his shoes and grabs his jacket off the back of the wooden chair. He pauses for a second, thinking he should say goodbye to James. But it’s his hotel room and it would be weird to just leave him here. He has to get rid of him. 

“Out.” José taps James on the shoulder and points to the door. 

James presses his phone against his chest. “Huh?” 

“I’m going out. You gotta go.” José waves a hand toward the door. “Let’s go.” 

“Hon, I’ll call you back, okay? See you in a few.” James stuffs his phone back in his pocket and gives José an unimpressed look, mouth thinning. “Where’re you goin’ at—” James glances at the digital alarm clock on the nightstand. “—two in the morning?” 

“What’s it matter to you?” José asks. 

“We’ve got a game tomorrow,” James says. 

“We don’t have to be at the park until noon,” José counters, grabbing James’s shoulder and trying to push him. 

James leans back and José loses what little leverage he has, landing on the carpet on his ass. James holds out a hand, which José grudgingly accepts, and hoists José back to his feet. 

“Where’re you gonna go?” James asks, dropping José’s hand. 

“What do you care? You’re not coming, it’s not your business,” José says. 

James’s eyes narrow. “You gonna hook up with somebody?” 

“Again, it’s not your business. I need some fresh air.” José slips around him and grabs the doorknob. 

“Open a window then,” James snaps, irritably, following him out the door. 

“The windows don’t open,” José fires back. 

James’s ringtone for Jess starts going off again, but he pulls it out and quickly mutes it before shoving it back in his pocket. “Just drink yourself to sleep then.” 

“That’s a terrible idea.” José walks briskly to the elevators. 

He used to live not too far from Fenway, when he played for the Red Sox, and he got to know the area well. There are plenty of places he could go just to get away. 

If James would just leave him alone. 

James catches up with him at the elevators and grabs him by the elbow before he can press the arrow button for their floor. “Night before a game? You sure this’s such a good idea?” 

“It’s probably not, but I don’t wanna…” José hesitates for a moment, before continuing. “I don’t wanna be around you.” 

James stares at him. “What?” 

“I don’t wanna be around you,” José echoes. 

“Why?” James asks. 

José shakes his hand off his arm and presses the button. “I don’t owe you any explanations.” 

“José,” James says. 

The doors slide open and José darts into the car. He presses the **door close** button but James manages to squeeze in before they shut. 

“Why are you doing this? Just go back upstairs. Go back to Jess,” José says. 

James just looks at him and says nothing. He wraps his fingers in the sleeve of his shirt. 

José tugs his arm away. “Stop.” 

“I can’t lose you,” James says. 

José looks into his eyes and starts to laugh. “Oh, wow. That’s good.” 

James reaches for his arm again. “I’m being serious.” 

“So am I.” 

James grabs him and hauls him against his chest, crushing his mouth against José’s just as the elevator lurches to a stop and everything sways unsteadily for a moment. José pushes him in the chest and he steps back, a dumbstruck look on his face. 

“Why’re you pushin’ me away?” 

“You’re not good for me.” José wipes his mouth on his sleeve. “You’re never gonna be good for me.” 

“I need you and I know you need me too,” James says. 

“No you don’t,” José says, turning his back as the elevator doors slide open. 

James grabs him by the arm and pulls him back, pressing at the button panel until the doors close and the elevator starts climbing back up, slowly. José jerks his arm out of James’s grip and turns to glare at him. 

“This’s why I can’t be around you,” José says, shoving him in the chest. “You don’t care until you’re afraid you’re gonna lose. It’s a game for you.” 

“That’s not what it is,” James says, pushing his hands away. “You’re not makin’ any sense.” 

José takes a swing at him, but James blocks the blow with his forearm. James moves lightning quick, quicker than José expected, and twists his arm behind his back. José tries to tug away but James pulls him back. 

His breath is hot on his neck. 

José pushes that observation out of the way. 

“You gonna let me go or not?” José jerks on his wrist. 

“You gonna act like an adult?” James asks, pulling him back against his chest. 

“I won’t try and punch you again if that’s what you mean,” José sneers. 

“I don’t believe you.” James ducks his head and sucks at José’s neck hard enough to leave a mark. 

José leans against his chest, and closes his eyes. He feels James’s lips part against his neck, and then a sharp sting as he takes the skin between his teeth. 

José presses the heel of his hand back against the front of James’s pants and rubs his cock through the denim. James’s teeth find the smooth skin of José’s neck again and tug. 

The elevator comes to a shuddering stop and José tries to pull his wrist out of James’s hand. 

“C’mon,” José says. 

“Wait.” James grabs José by the shoulder and spins him around. 

José raises his eyebrows at him. “Yeah?” 

James crowds him back against the railing, knotting a hand in the collar of his jacket, and kisses him hard enough to leave a bruise. José’s arms wind around his neck of their own volition and hold him close. 

James bites at his lips. His fingers press against José’s cheek. 

José is dimly aware of the elevator doors opening and he slides his hands between them to push James away. 

James steps back just as the doors open with a pneumatic hiss. José wipes his mouth off on the sleeve of his jacket. James just stares at him, his eyes dark and his mouth wet and shiny under the flickering lights of the elevator car. 

José steps around James and out of the elevator, into the hallway where he’s immediately stabbed in the eyes with a flood of bright light. 

“James, there you are!” 

José blinks the light out of his eyes and, sure enough, Jess is standing in the hall outside hers and James’s hotel room, in pink flannel pajamas and fuzzy white slippers. 

“Hey, hon.” James reaches her in three long strides and scoops her into his arms. “Sorry for scarin’ you like I did.” 

Jess rests her hands over his arms and stares up into his eyes. “Next time, leave a note,” she scolds, gently. 

“I will, babe. I promise.” James dips his head and kisses her chastely. 

José lingers in front of his own hotel room door and fumbles through his wallet for his key card. His hands are shaking—he thinks it’s adrenaline, the fear of almost being caught—and it takes him three tries to get the reader to accept the card. 

The door clicks open and José whispers a prayer of thanks under his breath. 

“Hon,” he hears James tell his wife, “I gotta ask José about somethin’. I’ll be right back.” 

José looks up to see James slipping away from Jess’s side. He gets into his room and closes the door, then waits. 

There’s a gentle knocking on the other side of the door. 

“It’s late,” José calls out. “Going to bed. G’night.” 

“I wanted to ask you…” James trails off. “You know what, never mind. I’ll see you at the park.” 

“Yeah,” José says, stepping away. “ ’Bye.” 

He doesn’t move away until he hears James’s footsteps shuffling away from his door. 

*** 

José sits in the grass on the sidelines while Víctor José and D’Angelo, Big Papí’s son, kick around a soccer ball together as Red Sox employees set up the batting cages. Every now and then, the ball gets away and José scrambles after it, tossing it back to the two boys. 

James hasn’t tried to talk to him once yet, but José doesn’t mind. He likes the peace and quiet. 

José takes a deep lungful of air and holds it, before letting it go. 

Boston’s always been a good place for him, even if it’s not his home anymore. 

José lounges in the grass and spreads his arms over his head like he’s doing a snow angel. Wispy clouds pass over a muted sun, and José makes out the ears of a rabbit, a dolphin. 

A cool breeze curls over his cheek. 

“What’re you doing?” Víctor José peers down at him, the soccer ball secured under his arm. 

“Looking at the animals in the clouds,” José says, pointing up at the sky. 

Víctor José looks in the direction he’s pointing, squinting and shielding his eyes with his hand. “I don’t see anything.” 

“You gotta work hard at it,” José says, laughing. 

Víctor José just shrugs and races off with D’Angelo, their high-pitched giggles cutting through the silence. José gets to his knees and pushes himself to his feet with a groan. He brushes grass off his practice jersey and scrubs his hands through his hair. 

The collar of his jersey brushes against the bite mark on his neck and the stinging ache brings heat to his cheeks. José reaches up and presses his fingers over it, wondering if anyone’s noticed. If so, no one’s said anything about it. 

Something taps against the heel of his cleat and José turns. James leans against his bat and nods to José in greeting. 

“Hey.” James’s white batting gloves dangle from his hand. “Nasty bruise. Looks like it hurts.” 

José resists rolling his eyes. “It’s okay.” 

“Good night?” James presses. 

“It was okay.” José turns back around and shoves his hands in his back pockets. His fingers close around a packet of sunflower seeds, which he digs out. José reaches into the packet, grabs a handful of seeds, and shoves them into his mouth. 

“Just okay?” James rests his bat over his shoulder. 

“I’ve had better.” José spits the shells out in the grass. 

“Mm,” James murmurs. “You’ll have to work on that then.” 

José laughs. “Maybe I will.” 

James nudges his shoulder against José’s. José half-turns toward him. 

“Gotta go get my swings in,” José says, backing away. “See you.” 

“Yeah,” James says, lips parting in a tiny blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smile. 

José turns and heads to the dugout to get his batting gloves and helmet. When he glances back, James is still standing there where José left him, bat resting over his shoulder, eyes on the sky and the cotton candy clouds that pass over. 

*** 

Sunday comes sooner than José was expecting, and yet it’s felt like weeks, months since the last meeting. 

Today, he dresses in a nice shirt and pants, and brings along a hymnal he picked up at a bookstore before they left Boston a couple days earlier. He scrapes off the price tag and then heads down to the clubhouse, where someone’s set up a makeshift chapel. In lieu of a lectern, somebody stacked some cardboard boxes and set Jess’s red book on top. 

José pulls over a stool and sits down and waits. 

Soon, teammates start filtering in. Mikie and his girlfriend, Crystal, arrive, along with Norris and Boyd. 

José watches the clubhouse doors and braces himself for James and Jess to show up. 

He pulls a pair of glasses and slides them on, then starts paging through his hymnal while he waits. 

James and Jess are the last to arrive, looking tired and miserable. 

José looks away from them and tries not to let his curiosity get the better of him. 

This time, Boyd leads their little service, reading passionately from that red, leather-bound book about defending your faith from doubters and those who wish to tear you down. Most of it goes over José’s head, but he nods along like he understands. 

James follows with a passage from the Gospel of Matthew and his hands shake against the pages of the Sacramentary. Jess stares ahead blankly, arms crossed over her chest, her jaw tight. 

José stares back down at his hymnal and allows himself to wonder. 

“The Word of the Lord.” 

“Thanks be to God.” 

James steps away from the makeshift podium and sits back down next to Jess. When he tries to take her hand, she twists it out of his grasp. 

After the service is over, they all disperse to get ready for that evening’s game. Mikie and Crystal sit together, his hands wrapped around hers, and José’s heart throbs a little at how peaceful and content they look. 

“I’m gonna go back to the hotel,” Jess announces, getting up and grabbing her purse and her stack of books. “I’ll see you after the game.” 

“You’re not gonna stick around?” James asks, getting up after her. 

“I’m tired, James,” she says, sighing. “And I really don’t wanna…” Jess trails off, eyes pinballing around the room before landing back on James. 

“Hon,” he tries. 

“I’m not gettin’ into it here. Have a good game.” Jess pats him on the arm and slips away from him before he can catch her hand. 

José gets up and folds his chair, leaning it against his locker stall. 

“Hey, José,” Mikie says, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “You hungry? Crystal and I are gonna grab some lunch before we gotta be back at the park for B.P.” 

José steals a look at James, standing alone by his locker. “Maybe some other time. Thanks, though,” he says, smiling gratefully at both of them. 

“Sure thing, man. See you ’round.” Mikie grins and pats José on the shoulder before joining Crystal by the exit. 

José watches them leave, wondering if maybe he made the wrong choice again. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” James calls out before José can even think to ask. 

José walks over to his locker with tentative steps, ready to flee at a moment’s notice. “You okay?” 

James pushes away from his locker and meets José’s eyes. Up close, José can see the red in his eyes and the weary sag to his shoulders. 

“I said I don’t wanna talk about it.” James grabs at his shirt and yanks it over his head. His chains thump against the center of his chest. 

“Look, maybe it’ll help,” José says. 

James glares at him as he pulls an undershirt out of his locker stall. “I had a bad night. That’s all.” 

José holds his hymnal against his chest. “I’m sorry.” 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” James mutters. 

“I’m still sorry you had a bad night. I’m allowed to do that, yes?” José asks, chancing a smile in the hopes it’ll get James to lighten up. 

“Not your problem,” he says, with a sigh. James pulls the shirt on and tugs it down over his chest. “I messed up with her. We got into it last night about some dumb stuff and—and I just… I called her a not-very-nice word.” 

“I’m sure it’ll blow over,” José says, looking away. “You just gotta apologize and make it up to her.” 

“I’ve tried. She’s still mad. I deserve it anyway,” James says. 

José sighs, still unable to bring himself to look at James. “You really have a way with people.” 

James’s fingers cup his chin and José finally turns to look at him. 

“I hurt you too,” he says, low and tender enough that it makes José feel squirmy. 

“That’s fine. You don’t… We’re not…” José shrugs. 

James strokes his cheek. “I’m makin’ a mess out of everything good lately.” 

“You think I’m…good?” José lets out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. 

“You are,” James says. “You’re good for me.” 

“James,” José says, shaking his head. 

James draws him into a gentle kiss. José lets his hands rest on James’s chest and one of James’s hands comes up to touch his neck. He threads his fingers in José’s hair. 

It’s just another stolen moment, though. José’s got a stack of them and they’re piling up. He’s starting to run out of room. 

He breaks the kiss and steps back. 

“You wanna meet up later?” James asks, reaching for his hand. 

“I dunno. I might go out for dinner or something,” José says, looking down at the back of James’s hand, at his red knuckles. 

“I can come by your room,” James says. 

José sighs. His chest hurts—everything inside is wound too tight, like a coiled spring ready to explode—and he rubs away the ache. “Shouldn’t you stay with Jess? Try and make up with her?” 

“Jess’ll be fine,” James says, grabbing hold of José’s hand. “It’ll blow over.” 

José shakes his head and laughs quietly. “You don’t know that.” 

“I know her,” James says. “I know she never stays mad for long.” 

José twists his hand out of James’s. “Make up with your wife.” 

“So, you don’t wanna see me then?” James asks, sounding hurt. 

Where does he get off sounding hurt? 

“I do,” José says, glancing down at the toes of James’s boots. “But it’s not a good idea.” 

“Look, I’ll come by after I talk to Jess,” James says, leaning in, dropping his voice to an almost conspiratorial whisper. “It’ll be fine. I promise.” 

“The guys are gonna come in any minute,” José says, backing away. 

“We on for tonight?” James asks, watching him keenly. 

He should say no. 

“I dunno. Like I say, I’m probably gonna go out later,” José says, meeting his eyes. “Might not be there when you come by.” 

James rubs a hand over his chin. The tops of his cheeks are painted with slashes of red and José’s not sure if it’s anger or something else. 

“All right,” he says, dropping his hands and shoving them in his pockets. “Have it your way.”

José pulls his jersey and pants out of his locker and quickly undresses. When he steals a glance at James, he’s still standing in front of his locker, staring down at something in his hand. José hastily throws on an undershirt and gets into the rest of his gear. 

He’s taken his clothes off in front of James too many times to count. He’s never felt uncomfortable until now. 

José sits in front of his locker and slips his feet into his white cleats. He tries to lace them up but his clumsy fingers tangle in the laces. Sighing, he unknots the laces and reties them. 

He hears a little bit of noise behind him and looks over. 

James pauses next to his stool, hand in a loose fist. 

“What?” José asks. 

“Here. I was gonna give this to you later, but… Whatever. Just take it.” James bends down, shoves it into José’s hand and leaves the clubhouse before José can ask him what it is. 

José opens his hand. It looks like a little piece of driftwood. He sighs and turns it over in his palm. There’s some tiny text scratched into the surface and José squints at it, trying to make out the words. 

_I thank God for every remembrance of you._

José tucks the piece of wood in his locker. 

He grabs his hat and glove and sprints out of the clubhouse. 

*** 

José’s just getting ready to leave and grab himself a late dinner when someone knocks softly on his door. The good feelings still lingering from their victory earlier fade away like smoke, leaving José just feeling tired. 

He opens the door and steps aside, waving James into his room without a word. 

James sits himself in the chair next to José’s bed and holds his hands over his knees and says nothing. 

José rubs a hand through his carefully moussed hair and ruins it. “So… You wanna talk?” 

James tips his head back against the wall and scratches at his neck, over his Adam’s apple. “Jess’s still mad at me,” he says, not meeting José’s eyes. 

“And so you’re here instead.” José sits on the end of his bed and crosses his ankles. “With me.” 

James rakes his eyes over José, crawling slowly up his body, letting them linger on his mussed up hair. “You’re going out.” It’s more of an observation than a question. 

José shakes his head and shoves his hands into the pockets of his sports coat. “Told you I was probably gonna.” 

“Just stay with me,” James says. 

“Why?” José asks. 

“What d’you mean _why_?” James furrows his brow. 

“Why you want me staying with you? You even know why?” José laughs. 

“I—I like hangin’ out with you,” James says, looking down at his hands, which are still resting on his knees. 

“That’s it?” José sighs and gets up off the bed. “That don’t sound like a reason.” 

James rubs his thumb between his eyebrows and closes his eyes. “I don’t know what you want me to say.” 

“I just want…” José lets that thought remain unfinished, unsaid. 

James opens his eyes and gets out of the chair. He approaches José with cautious steps, and lets a hand land gently on his arm. “Tell me.” 

José shakes his head. “Not happening.” 

“Why not?” James wraps his hand more firmly around José’s wrist. 

“ ’Cause it’s not important,” José says. 

James slides his hand up José’s arm. “You can tell me anything. I promise I won’t get mad.” 

“It’s not important.” José pushes him away, a palm against his chest. 

James holds his hand against his chest. His fingers are gentle as they brush over his knuckles. 

“It matters to you,” he says. 

“Nothing I say is gonna change anything,” José says. “Nothing’s gonna change.” 

“What isn’t?” James asks. 

José pulls his hand away. “You and me. This isn’t good, we’re not good, and nothing I say will change that.” 

James brushes his fingers against José’s cheek. “You don’t know—” 

“No.” José turns his head and James’s fingers skim down the side of his face, to his shoulder. “I’m gonna go out. You’re gonna go back to Jess. And then this is gonna be done.” 

“You—you’re serious,” James says, his voice trembling like a piece of string stretched out nearly to its breaking point. 

“It’s over, it has to be,” José says. He studies their shadows on the wall, sketched out like distorted charcoal figures. 

“No. You can’t do that,” James says, grabbing José’s arm. “I’ll do better.” 

“Stop.” José tugs on his arm, but James holds on tightly. 

“Just tell me what you want and I’ll do it,” he insists. 

“I told you already. Go back to Jess,” José says. 

“I need you,” James says, with a broken little laugh. 

“I need you too,” José says, wrapping his hands around James’s. 

James leans in and brushes his lips against José’s, softly. He tightens his fingers around José’s hand. “Don’t do this. Stay with me.” 

“I’m not with you.” José rests his forehead against James’s shoulder. 

“I’ll do better, treat you better. If you’d just let me.” James wraps his arms around José. “I—I can make some more time for you.” 

“You don’t really want that. You just… You’re used to having me around. But it’ll be fine,” José says. 

James’s lips brush against his temple, and his hand presses against his back. And José still wants him. 

“It’ll be fine if you just…” James sighs. “Let’s just talk it out. We can talk it out and it’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.” 

“There’s no _we_. Never been a _we_ ,” José insists, slipping out from under James’s arm. “I’m never gonna get what I want. And I don’t… I’m tired of being… I’m tired of this.” 

“Just tell me what you want, then,” James says, holding his hands out to José in supplication. 

“I want…” José pauses, tossing around all the different things he could say. Should he tell the truth? A white lie? “I wanted you to be mine. And I wanted to be yours.” 

“And now?” James asks, clenching his hands into fists against his thighs. 

José shrugs. “I just wanna be _done_. I’m tired of waiting around for you even though I know you’re not gonna be there.” 

“It won’t always be like this.” James uncurls his fists and wipes his hands on his pants. “Maybe, someday, we can…” 

“You can’t just keep me on your line,” José says. He laughs, and it hurts. Like nails in his throat. “I’m not gonna wait around, hoping maybe you’ll love me enough to put me down like a dog.” 

“What?” James stares at him. 

“I’m not waiting around,” José says, crossing his arms over his chest. 

James locks his hands around José’s arms and pulls him close, bringing their mouths together. José can taste salt on his tongue. He runs his fingers over James’s cheek. 

José feels James’s hands slip down his back. There’s intent there. He can feel it. 

James guides them both back, lips still against José’s, and pushes him down onto the bed. José stares up at him, hands curling in the comforter. James looks down at him, eyes full of some emotion that makes José’s heart hurt. 

After a moment of near silence, James get onto the bed beside José and pulls him back into his arms. 

José cups his face in his hands and kisses him softly. James’s fingers dip into his waistband. 

James rolls on top of him and then his hands are on José’s face, holding him close. 

José wishes he was stronger. Instead, he lifts a hand to pop open the buttons on James’s shirt. 

James pushes his hand down and tugs his shirt open, shrugs it off his shoulders. He sits back for a moment and just looks at José, runs his eyes over his face and doesn’t say a word. 

José feels himself flush self-consciously. “Stop.” 

James ducks his head and tips José’s chin up with his fingers to kiss him again. José hooks an arm around his neck and James’s arms circle his waist, tight, like he’s not going to let go. 

James pushes José back against the mattress and undoes his pants. José helps him shove them down his hips. He leans over José and slides his hands over his sides, before freeing him of his shirt. James’s hands linger on his back, fingers pressing between his shoulder blades. 

José lifts his head from James’s chest. “James, I—” 

He moves his fingers to José’s jawline. “Don’t. Just let me…” 

José kisses his chest, near his heartbeat. “It won’t change anything.” 

“I know.” James strokes his thumb over José’s cheek in a slow circle. 

José wraps his arms around James and pulls him down to kiss him again. 

James lays gentle hands over José and his weight is heavy and solid and there. José throws his arms around James’s neck and James’s hands skim down to clutch at his thighs. José holds onto James and crushes his mouth against his in a hungry kiss and wishes—not for the first time—that James didn’t have to leave when they were done. James’s fingers press between his thighs, rough and hot and it’s uncomfortable, but it’s okay. It’s okay. 

When James pulls away, José grabs for him and tries to tug him back into place. He gropes around in the pockets of his discarded pants until he comes up with a condom. Their eyes meet as James fiddles with the foil wrapper. 

José puts his hand out and James hands him the condom. José rips the foil open and motions for James to come closer. 

He crawls next to José and he slides it over him. James slips his fingers into José’s hair. 

José settles back and James leans over him, not moving to kiss him or fuck him. 

“What?” José asks. 

James smiles and lowers his eyes. “Nothin’.” 

“Sounds like it.” José taps him on the cheek and James raises his head. 

“Hm?” 

“Let’s get going.” 

James laughs and gets an arm around José’s waist, drawing him into another kiss. His hand rests heavily on José’s neck and José squeezes his fingers around his wrist. 

José ends up on his stomach and James has him by the hips, his mouth on the back of his neck. His lips part and José feels his teeth on the strip of skin between his shoulder and neck. He drops his head against his arm and James bites down gently, tugs with his teeth and licks the sting away. 

James’s arm winds around his chest, and his chest presses into José’s back. And his mouth is still on his shoulder. Pressing soft kisses into the skin there. José reaches back and caresses his cheek. 

James holds him by the chin and kisses him—soft and wet—as he strokes his hips in torturously long thrusts. 

It’s a slow fire that burns. José hardly notices it until he’s running hot, almost feverish, and James is panting into his shoulder, sweat dripping onto José’s skin. 

James squeezes his hip and presses his face into José’s neck. 

He’s close—José’s close too—and he doesn’t want it to stop. 

James slows his thrusts until he’s hardly moving. “What d’you need,” he mutters. 

There’s an itch in the middle of José’s back and he wriggles his shoulders. “Just this. This’s fine.” 

James’s hand rubs down his back. “I dunno how much longer I can…” 

“Keep going.” José presses his hips back. 

And James does, clutching onto his hips, pushing the breath out of José’s lungs in a soft exhale every time they come together. His fingers squeeze until it hurts. 

José gets a hand around his cock. One of James’s hands wraps around his throat, thumb pressing under his chin. His lips brush behind José’s ear. 

José comes, pushing back against James’s chest. James presses down and spreads his hands over José’s back and keeps fucking him until it’s nearly too much and José is making these embarrassing noises as he knots his fists in the bed sheets. 

James comes like that, pressing into José, and slumps over him once he’s done. His mouth moves in José’s hair. He wraps a hand around one of José’s and holds it down. 

José presses his cheek into the soft sheets underneath his face. 

If he lets James stay any longer he’ll probably lose his resolve. But it’s nice. This is nice. José wishes he could keep him here like this. 

James kisses his sweaty shoulder and José sighs. 

Neither of them moves for a while. José’s heart pounds against his ribs like a bird trying to free itself from a cage. 

“You should…” José raises his head and rolls his shoulders. 

James wraps an arm around his chest. His mouth is on the back of José’s neck. “I know.” 

“Let me up,” José mumbles. 

“José,” he says. 

“C’mon.” José curls James’s arm against his chest anyway. “You gotta let go sometime.” 

James unwinds his arm from José’s chest and slides his hands over his shoulders. He finally rolls away from José and onto his back. José turns and looks at him for a moment before reaching out and putting his hand over James’s chest. James flicks his eyes at him and presses his hand against José’s, holding it over his heart. 

José leans in and kisses his cheek. 

“Maybe, someday,” José says, softly. 

There won’t be a _someday_. He knows this, and he thinks James does too. He feels better just saying the words, though. Like it’ll happen. Like there’s a future where this isn’t a bad thing they’re doing. Like there’s a time, a place where they’re not hurting anyone and they’re together and it’s okay. 

James squeezes his hand. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” he says, voice rough. He drops his eyes and rubs at his throat. “I never…” 

“I know you didn’t,” José says. 

James strokes his fingers over José’s before slipping his hand around his wrist and pressing his knuckles against his mouth. “I’m not good at any of this,” he says, squeezing José’s hand before he finally lets go. “I don’t know what to say or what to do and…” 

“It’s fine.” José sits up and rubs his hands over his face with a tired groan. 

James sits up too and gets out of bed to gather up his clothing. José turns his head and gives James a little privacy as he dresses. 

“Hey.” 

José looks up. James leans across the bed and brushes his lips against the corner of José’s mouth. José closes his eyes and sighs against James’s lips. 

He pulls back, fingers trailing away from José’s hand where it rests on the mattress. 

“James?” José asks. His heart skips a beat. 

James meets his eyes. “Yeah?” 

José starts to lose his nerve and he looks away. “Nothing. Never mind.” 

“What is it?” James asks, standing by the end of the bed. 

He wants to be unfair. He wants to assert some claim he doesn’t really have. He can’t. 

It’s not important, anyway. 

“It’s not important. You should go,” he says. 

James lets out his breath in a long sigh. “I’ll see you around.” 

“Yeah.” José tears his hands through his hair. 

He waits for the sound of the door opening. 

He keeps waiting. 

José looks up at the sound of footsteps, and then James is kneeling in front of him and his hands are on his face and he’s pulling him into another kiss. Really, it’s less a kiss than a desperate clash of lips and tongues, teeth, and the taste of copper in his mouth. 

James pulls away, mouth lingering near José’s. He rests a hand over José’s bare knee. 

“I mean it, you should—” 

“I know. I will,” he says. 

James kisses him again, a hand clasping over his knee. 

Finally, after what seems like forever, James gets back to his feet and retreats for the door. José watches his back, as if to make sure he actually leaves this time. 

James opens the door, pauses to look back at José one last time before slipping through and closing it after him. 

José sits on the bed and listens to his breathing, unsteady at first. His heart clenches in his chest like a fist and his eyes burn. 

But, after a little while, the tightness goes away and his eyes stop aching. He can breathe again. His lungs don’t feel like they’re on fire anymore. 

José rips the dirty sheets off the bed and bundles them in with the rest of his laundry. After he’s done, he throws on a T-shirt and shorts and collapses on the mattress. 

He sinks into a series of fitful dreams and jerks awake at way too early in the morning, his hand groping across the empty space next to him for someone who isn’t there. 

*** 

José gets hurt in Kansas City running out a ground ball, and he lands on the shelf for the rest of the road trip. 

He sits on the bench with Víctor, who’s battling through a leg injury of his own, and listens to him go on and on about his kids. He’s a little surprised to find that he actually likes just listening to someone else talk. And José can imagine plenty worse things he could be doing than listening to Víctor brag about his family, so it’s all good. 

James doesn’t try to talk to him, hasn’t since that night. José knows he should be happy with that, it’s what he wanted, but he still finds himself glancing at James’s locker during quiet moments. He still feels this phantom pain. 

It wasn’t good. What they were doing, what they were, it wasn’t a good thing and it’s right that it ended. José just wishes he could understand why he misses James. Why he wakes up reaching for James sometimes, or finding dumb articles online and clicking James’s icon in his iPhone contacts only to remember he can’t do that anymore. 

It shouldn’t be a problem. He shouldn’t still want it. 

James was bad for him—he was bad for James—and he shouldn’t— 

José sighs and rubs between his eyes. 

The flight back to Detroit from Kansas City is stifling. 

“You all right?” 

José glances over at Mikie, who’s sitting next to him and flipping through the pages of a crossword puzzle book. 

“Yeah,” José says, swirling rapidly melting ice cubes and flat soda in his plastic cup. “Just thinking.” 

“Anything you feel like sharin’?” Mikie asks, pulling a pencil out of his pants pocket. 

José looks ahead. He can see James near the front of the plane, headphones on, sitting with Fulmer. 

“I dunno, no, not really,” José says, sighing again. He stirs his pinky finger in his drink. 

“You been kinda a drag lately,” Mikie says, quirking a smile. “No offense intended.” 

“None taken,” José says. 

Mikie sets down his pencil. “You wanna grab lunch when we get back to the D?” 

“Where’s your girl, Crystal?” José asks. 

“Went home to Louisiana,” Mikie says, flashing a small smile tinged with regret. “She’s in grad school up at Shreveport.” 

“What’s she study?” José asks. 

“Psych,” Mikie says, chest puffing out just a little bit in pride. 

José smiles back before glancing at his glass of melted ice and soda that’s now more water than anything else. “Sounds nice.” 

“How ’bout you?” Mikie asks, sitting back and tucking an arm under his head. 

José shoots him a look. “Hm?” 

“You got anybody back home?” 

José sips at his plastic cup and chews on the rim. “Not really.” He sighs heavily. “Got out of a…thing.” 

Mikie gives him a conciliatory pat on the shoulder. “Say no more, brother. Say no more.” 

José continues to chew on the rim of his cup as the words collect in his mouth and his throat and he just has to spit them out before he chokes on them. “It wasn’t a—a good thing,” he blurts, shifting a nervous look Mikie’s way. “But is it… Is it normal to…” 

Mikie looks over at him. “To…?” he prompts. 

“To miss something that was bad?” José asks, looking away, out the window. They skim over fluffy white clouds and pale blue sky that remind him of James’s eyes. 

“Bad how?” Mikie asks, his tone careful, neutral. “Abusive?” 

“No! No, just…” José says, face growing hot like he’s been slapped on his cheeks. “Like, just bad. Not good.” 

Mikie frowns, corners of his mouth tugging down. “It wasn’t a good relationship but you miss it?” 

José’s cheeks flood with shame. “I feel… How do you say… Like I’m missing something.” He touches his chest. 

Mikie nods slowly. “It might not’ve been very good for you, but you’re still feelin’ the loss,” he says. 

“I guess. I dunno, seems silly,” José mutters.

“Feelings’re feelings, man. They don’t always gotta make sense,” Mikie says. 

José sighs. “I miss my… Maria,” he says suddenly. “I just miss Maria, my girlfriend. But we were bad for each other.” 

“You’ll get past it, man. Just gonna take some time. Maybe chapel’ll help,” he says. 

José feels all the color drain from his face. “Chapel?” 

“Yeah. We get our old conference room back,” Mikie says, with a laugh. “Really sick of these dang road trips.” 

José finishes off what’s left of his soda and sets it in the cup holder in his arm rest. “Yeah, it’ll be nice to get home,” he says. 

“You wanna lead the service?” 

“Oh, I don’t know—” José tries, but Mikie’s latched onto the idea already. 

“I think you might be the only one in our little group who hasn’t done it yet,” he says, beaming at José. 

“I don’t think Jessica has,” José says. He plays with the end of his nylon seatbelt. He wishes he hadn’t said her name. It feels wrong. 

“I don’t think that’s gonna be an issue for a while,” Mikie says, wincing. 

“What? Why?” José asks. 

“Aw, shit. It ain’t none of my business, man. Forget you heard any of this from me,” he says, waving José off. 

José knows he ought to let it go. James’s life isn’t any of his business, not anymore. 

“What happened,” he asks, trying not to sound _too_ curious. “They seemed…pretty solid.” 

“You know how games of telephone can be,” Mikie says, with an awkward laugh. “Crystal heard from Ashley Boyd who heard from Kelsey Fulmer that… Ah, that Jess up and left.” 

José picks up his empty cup. “Like… She just left?” 

“I guess, man. I was only half-listenin’,” Mikie says, shaking his head. “Ain’t my business anyways.” 

José pushes down a tiny flare of _something_ that sparks deep in his chest. Stamps it out. “Right. That must suck.” 

“Yeah, man. Can’t imagine it,” Mikie agrees. 

José closes his eyes and sighs. The part of him that still hurts wants to find James. Wants to reach out and—and what? Comfort him? Offer him a shoulder to lean on? 

When he said he was done, he’d meant it. 

James isn’t his business anymore. 

Maybe if he repeats that to himself enough times, José will start to believe it. 

*** 

José sits alone in the conference room, paging through his hymnal idly. No one else has arrived yet and he’s enjoying the solitude. 

The calm before the storm. 

The doors open and José looks up. Mikie and the Fulmers arrive together, followed shortly thereafter by Boyd and Norris. José greets them all with a friendly smile or a small wave of his hand, or both. 

“Hey, man,” Norris says, slouching in a chair next to José. He pats José on the back. “Heard you were leading the service this week.” 

“Yeah, Mikie talked me into it,” José says, with a laugh. 

“He put up a valiant fight, but I won in the end,” Mikie says, draping an arm around José’s shoulders and grinning broadly. He gives José a friendly shake. 

“Looking forward to it,” Norris says, nodding, his curls bouncing. “I’m sure you’ll an awesome job, dude.” 

The door opens and José turns, still laughing. 

James shuffles in, head down, eyes on the cell phone clutched in his hand. 

“Hey, McCannon,” Mikie calls out, good-naturedly, “you’re late!” 

James looks up. “Sorry,” he says, pocketing his cell phone quickly. “What’d I miss?” 

José looks back at the lined pages of his hymnal. 

“José’s leading the service today,” Mikie says, patting José on the shoulder and giving him a reassuring squeeze. 

“Oh,” James says. 

The tone of his voices makes José raise his head. They glance at each other for a moment before José looks back down at the hymnal clutched in his hands. 

“You got the book?” Mikie asks, breaking away from José to greet James with an arm around the shoulders. 

“Oh, yeah. I, uh… She left it with me.” James pulls the red book out from under his hooded sweatshirt and hands it off to Mikie. 

Mikie grabs the book and brings it over to the podium, where he spreads it out and opens it to the proper pages and marks them with colorful ribbons as bookmarks. 

José flips a page in his hymnal without reading it. 

“We set to go then?” Norris asks, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. 

José puts his hymnal down on the empty seat next to him and slips his glasses out of his pocket, sliding them onto his face. 

James wanders into the row behind José and Norris and sits down with a heavy sigh. 

José want to look behind him, over his shoulder, but he digs his nails into his palms and counts to three. Then he gets up and walks up to the podium and touches the thick pages of Jess’s red leather-bound book. 

When he lifts his head, he meets James’s eyes. 

José looks back down at the book. He lays trembling fingers over the page and traces a line under the words with his fingernail. 

“When the time for Pentecost was fulfilled, they were all in one place together,” he recites, quietly. 

He look up again and glances at the faces in the crowd—James’s face—before resuming. 

When the service is done, most of the guys disperse to prepare for that evening’s game. Norris has some complicated routine he does involving Starbucks coffee—and _only_ Starbucks coffee—that can’t be disturbed, and Boyd needs to squeeze in a twenty minute pre-batting-practice nap or else he’s all out of sorts. 

José feels out of sorts, himself. He sits back in his seat and holds his hymnal in his lap. 

“Hey.” 

José doesn’t turn around to see who it is. “Hey.” 

“How’re you…” James hesitates. “So, what’s up?” 

José turns and looks over his shoulder at him. “What’s up?” 

James just shrugs at him. “Yeah. What’s up with you?” 

José laughs a little sharply and turns back around. “I dunno. Thinking about the stuff we talk about today. And other things.” 

James rests a hand on the back of José’s chair. His fingertips press lightly—just enough—against his shoulder. “What’re you thinkin’ about?” 

“Forgiveness. Seemed to be the running theme in today’s service,” José says. 

“I guess.” James finally pulls his hand away from José’s shoulder and he lets out a soft sigh. “You—you did a nice job.” 

“Thanks.” José turns in his seat until he can look James in the eye without straining his neck. “Are you okay?” 

James looks off in the distance. “I dunno. Everything’s kind of a mess,” he says. 

“I heard.” 

James glances at him. “Yeah?” 

“I’m sorry.” José reaches out, lets his hand hover for a moment before he gathers up his last scrap of bravery and presses his hand against James’s. 

“You don’t have to—” 

“It sucks,” José says, leaving his hand over James’s. 

“José.” James sighs. “You don’t have to try and make me feel better.” 

José squeezes his hand. “But I care about you and I’m sorry you’re—” 

“I know,” James says, sliding his fingers between José’s and squeezing back. “It’s fine.” 

José looks at their hands, their tangled fingers. He sighs. “Miss you,” he says. 

“I miss you too.” James rubs his thumb over his knuckles. 

James meets José’s eyes, their hands still entwined. 

“Just wanted you to know I… I dunno, I was thinking about you,” José says, holding his hymnal against his chest. “And I hope you’re okay.” 

“Maybe someday,” James says, sounding almost wistful. A smile twitches on his lips. 

José gently slides his hand out from under James’s. “Someday soon.” He gets up and holds his book over his chest. “See you later.” 

“Yeah,” James says, looking up at him. “See you around.” 

José moves toward the door. 

“José, wait.” 

“Yeah?” José turns toward him. 

He gets up from his seat and joins José by the door. He puts a hand on his shoulder and José looks at him and waits. 

James wraps his arms around him and José presses his cheek against his shoulder and hugs him back. His hymnal falls out of his arms and lands somewhere on the floor between their feet. James’s hand rests between José’s shoulder blades, solid and warm. It feels good to hold him. 

When James finally moves away, José stoops down and picks up the book. James rubs his shoulder before pulling his hand back. 

Their eyes meet again, bounce away like cue balls, then land on one another again. José smiles and James smiles back. José’s not sure why he’s smiling, or why James is. 

“Gotta go get ready for the game,” James mutters, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“Yeah. Me too.” José tucks the book under his arm and edges toward the door. 

James squeezes his shoulder one last time—eyes lingering, fingers drawing away slowly—before José slips through the doors. 

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.


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